


Days of Why and How

by mveloc



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Crime AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9533579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mveloc/pseuds/mveloc
Summary: If you had asked Cosima Niehaus six years ago where she envisioned herself in a year, she would have told you somewhere in a tropical paradise with the woman she loved at her side, or perhaps a student working towards completing her degree with a promising career in the sciences ahead of her. Never in a million years would she have said alone in prison, betrayed and abandoned by the love of her life... and yet, her life always seemed to gravitate toward the unexpected—something she probably should have learned when Delphine Cormier walked into her life, over to that pool table and dealt her the first of many losses.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** New fic! New fic! New fic! Pretty excited to start this one. The epilogue to Pure Radiance will be up sometime soon and while there is a sequel planned, I wanted to take a break from that universe for a little bit to start something new. Obviously this is completely AU and I’ve been having a lot of fun developing a brand new world to play with. This one is going to get an M-rating for coarse language, mature themes (violence, crime, etc.) and, of course, smut. I don’t want to give too much away straight from the get-go, but I hope you all enjoy it and thank you all so much for the continued support. Much love!

 

 

The autumn air washes over her, summoning pimples to her skin as she allows the gust to embrace her fully, to rake through her just once before abandoning her again, leaving her changed like the dead yet vibrant leaves which litter the ground. 

 

She doesn’t mind it.

 

After being stifled for so long, the wayward wind is a welcomed relief. She finds her lips being drawn into a smile as the cold nips at her cheeks, flooding them with colour.

 

“Look at you, Niehaus—a free woman.”

 

She turns back to the uniformed woman standing behind her and nods.

 

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

 

Freedom.

 

She’d always taken it for granted.

 

It wasn’t until she had to piss without a door to shield her from the gaze of total strangers that she actually realized how good she had it before. She wouldn’t say her experience in prison had been a particularly rough one—it was certainly better than many others—but it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, either. After she got used to the total lack of privacy and autonomy, things weren’t all that bad. Sure, the isolation could be downright crippling, but she had found a way to keep her head above the water until her release.

 

“Freedom suits you,” the guard smiles.

 

Prisoner or not, she had managed to make a few friends during her stay and maybe that’s what saved her. She was charming and polite and pretty damn cooperative in comparison to most of the other inmates, so many of the guards took an immediate liking to her. 

 

“Just don’t go and do something stupid and land yourself back here. You’re better than this place,” she adds.

 

She nods again.

 

“Yeah. I know.”

 

She had always been a fast learner and she had nothing to do but spend the last five years reflecting on her mistakes.

 

She could have graduated by now.

 

She could have been pursuing a graduate degree, or working at some top research facility. 

 

Instead she’s starting from scratch—a felon with zero prospects. How the hell is she going to recover from this? How is she supposed to piece her life back together and move forward? Her life had been so clear at one point, so full of potential, but now she finds herself dangling on the edge of uncertainty. At least in prison there were no illusions, no expectations. Every day was predetermined from what she ate to what she wore to when she woke and went to bed, when she shit and when she showered. Now she found herself overwhelmed by choice—or the surprising lack thereof. 

 

No wonder so many of the girls ended up back here before long.

 

“Is it supposed to feel this weird?” she asks with a nervous laugh. “I-I mean, don’t get me wrong—I’m totally glad to be out. It’s just… my prospects are looking a little bleak right now.”

 

The guard smiles, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

 

“It’s always hard in the beginning, but you’ll figure it out. You’re one of the smart ones.”

 

“Not smart enough, apparently,” she jokes. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

 

She continues to make banter until a car pulls up and she spies a familiar figure through the windshield. All of her fear and doubt immediately evaporates the second it parks and her friend emerges from the driver’s seat.

 

“Oi!”

 

“Sarah!”

 

She’s about to dash into her friend’s arms but instinctively stops herself to look over to the guard, seeking permission.

 

“Can I—?”

 

“Don’t look at me,” the woman shrugs. “You’re not my problem anymore. Now get outta here.”

 

Beaming with gratitude, she rushes over to Sarah and the two throw their arms around each other, clinging to each other as if their lives depend on it. She can’t stop the tears nipping at her eyes when Sarah’s familiar scent permeates her nostrils; she was afraid that after five years, something would have changed but she’s comforted by the familiar scent, the familiar voice. 

 

“Let’s get the fuck outta here, yeah? Five years overdue.”

 

She climbs into the passenger seat without looking back.

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

“Jesus Christ. It’s been _ages,”_ she laughs, walking into her old watering hole and revelling in the familiarity. “This place hasn’t changed a bit, though. Can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

 

Sarah joins in on the laughter.

 

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m not sure this place was ever fully functioning to begin with.”

 

Sarah leads them through the bar to their old table where they spent many drunken nights wasting away their youth. Her grin widens when she spots Sarah’s scrawny brother already waiting for him.

 

“Jesus, Felix,” she remarks, giving him a once over. “You’re, like, grown up.”

 

“And grown _out._ Don’t you forget it, darling.”

 

The last time she’d seen him, he was nothing more than a snot-nosed teenager who used to follow them around like a lost puppy, always at Sarah’s heel. Of course, he was always sassy and boisterous but he seems to have actually grown into himself.

 

“Oh, come here,” he beckons her, pulling her into an embrace.

 

They take their seats, reacquainting themselves with each other. Sarah had always come to visit her quite frequently and so there isn’t too much for them to catch up on, but she grants Felix an open floor, demanding to know what he’s been up to for the last five years.

 

“Really? You want to talk about _me?”_ he gawks.

 

“Why not? It’s been five years, dude. I’m sure you have a story or two.”

 

He exchanges looks with Sarah.

 

“Not that I don’t love talking about myself, but shouldn’t we be talking about you? This is your day, after all,” he offers.

 

She grows silent, contemplative.

 

“I… don’t have anything to say.”

 

He scoffs.

 

“You spend five years in a woman’s prison and you don’t have anything to say about it?”

 

“What am I supposed to say?” she counters. “It’s prison. It sucks. It’s the same thing, day in and day out. There’s not much room for growth or development.”

 

He smirks, taking a sip of his Guinness.

 

“But I’m sure there’s plenty of time to plot revenge.”

 

Her brow furrows, confusion setting in.

 

“What?”

 

“Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” he throws. “How are you going to get back at her?”

 

She freezes, then shoots an icy glare in Sarah’s direction.

 

“Just drop it,” she says sternly.

 

“Cosima, you have to have some sort of plan. You can’t just let that bitch—”

 

“Leave it alone, Felix,” she snaps again. “It’s over. That’s that.”

 

An awkward silence befalls the table as the siblings decide the best way to approach their newly-released friend and the ex-con tries to shake all memories of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named from her head. She probably should have been prepared for the topic, but five years of distance and complete radio silence have almost deluded her into thinking that her duplicitous ex was no longer relevant.

 

“Well, would you look at this motherfucker here.”

 

Their awkward silence is interrupted by their favourite bartender. Cosima beams up at the spectacled woman, memories rushing back into her head.

 

“God, you’re still here?” she teases, tongue poking out from behind her teeth. “Maybe my prospects aren’t so bad after all.”

 

If Bobby’s still bartending, maybe the world hasn’t changed that rapidly after all.

 

“That’s no way to speak to the owner of this fine establishment,” Bobby spits back.

 

“What? You _own_ the place now?” Cosima asks incredulously.

 

“I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?” Bobby laughs, shaking her head. “My name’s on the front, sweetheart.”

 

The four have a laugh, Bobby taking their drink orders.

 

“This round’s on me,” she offers.

 

“Bobby—”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” she cuts Cosima off. “I know you have no money and you only get out of prison once… hopefully. Let’s celebrate.”

 

She disappears for a couple of minutes and returns with their orders— two pints of Guinness for the siblings, a gin and tonic with double lime for the free woman, as well as four shots of tequila to get them all started. They down their shots enthusiastically and let the celebration commence.

 

“So, you gonna go back to school?” Sarah asks. 

 

Cosima shrugs.

 

“I don’t know. Don’t even know if I can. Do you think they’d accept a felon?”

 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Felix encourages her.

 

She stares into her drink, swirling the ice cubes in her glass with the straw.

 

“Even if they did accept me and I finished my degree, I’ll never get a job in the medical field with a criminal record.”

 

A solemn silence befalls the group.

 

“So, what’s the plan, then?” Sarah asks.

 

“I don’t know. Get a job, I guess,” Cosima shrugs half-heartedly. “Start making some money.”

 

“It’s not much, but if you need a gig, I could always use another bartender,” Bobby offers.

 

“Really?” Cosima asks.

 

She had thought that finding a job was going to take her months and while she never pictured herself as a bartender, there were certainly worse jobs to have. At least Bobby is a friend who’s willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. She’s certain that she won’t find a better opportunity anywhere.

 

“That, or I guess you could go back to hustling folks at the table,” the tattooed woman shrugs, gesturing over to a vacant pool table.

 

“No,” the Cosima immediately retorts. “Bartending would be perfect. Thank you so much, Bobby. I totally owe you one.”

 

“No problem,” Bobby smiles. “You enjoy your weekend of freedom and swing by on Monday. I’ll set you up.”

 

She leaves the three of them alone again to tend to the other patrons who are now starting to flow into the bar more steadily.

 

“Look at you, scoring a real job,” Felix teases. “You’re already doing one better than the two of us.”

 

“Geez. All these years, she’s never offered me a job,” Sarah mutters.

 

Cosima laughs.

 

“It may not be as lucrative as a life of crime, but it’s something,” she admits.

 

Felix and Sarah exchange concerned looks once more and the dreadlocked woman detects the uncertainty in the air.

 

“What is it?” she prods.

 

The two are clearly withholding something from her and from the looks of it, they seem nervous about divulging.

 

“Look—I know you just got out of prison and everything and you’re trying to keep a low profile, but…”

 

Sarah stops herself, unsure of how to continue.

 

“But…?” Cosima tries to coax her.

 

“We were… sort of wondering if… if… you’d maybe want to help us with a job?”

 

Her spine stiffens, her blood runs cold.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

 

“I know it sounds mad—”

 

“That’s because it _is_ mad,” Cosima snaps. “I’ve been out of prison for, what, three hours now and you’re already trying to recruit me into your shit?”

 

“We wouldn’t ask if it wasn't super important!” Felix tries.

 

“More important than our friendship?” she challenges.

 

They both hesitate, regarding their clearly unstable friend with the utmost caution.

 

“I just spent the last five years in absolute hell because the love of my life threw me under the bus and then left me to rot, and now you’re going to ask me to put myself in a position where I might get sent back to that hell hole for _a lot_ longer?”

 

“Oh, please,” Felix scoffs, taking a swig from his drink. ““Love of your life?” Don’t flatter her.”

 

“Shut up, Felix!” she attacks, slamming her glass down on the table and drawing the attention of nearby patrons. “You don’t know anything about it!”

 

She had thought she was over it—that the past was in the past and that she was more than ready to move on. She told herself she no longer cared, that she didn’t need such a toxic person in her life anyway, but as she glances over at the lonely pool table to her left, she realizes that it isn’t quite that simple.

 

Toxins are trickier than that.

 

Even if you treat the source and dress the wound, once it’s entered your blood stream, it’s only a matter of time before it circulates through your entire body and compromises your nervous system. Before long, you find yourself paralyzed—unable to move or scream or cry for help—unable to breathe as every aching breath is sucked from your body, stifling you worse than any prison ever could. Unless an antidote is administered in time, there’s absolutely no hope for survival.

 

And Delphine Cormier is one poison without a cure.

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

_“That’ll be a gin and tonic—double lime,” she announces as she triumphantly sinks the eight ball into the corner pocket, concluding the game._

 

_Sarah scowls, tipping her head back and swallowing her defeat along with the remnants of her glass in a single, heavy gulp._

 

_“Yeah, yeah,” the punk mutters dismissively, turning to make her way toward the bar. “Keep talking.”_

 

_“And keep walking! I’m thirsty!” Cosima counters, a smirk fixed firmly to her face._

 

_She’s never considered herself a competitive person by nature, but there’s something so satisfying about knocking her childhood friend down a few pegs—in the most loving way possible, of course; ever since they were kids, Sarah was always the leader of their pack—always calling all the shots, making sure her voice was the loudest. The quirky young student didn’t mind it all that much since Sarah was usually pretty fair and a whole lot of fun to be around, but there came a time when her bravado grew a little too loud. In those times, Cosima liked to quash her dominance in the only way she knew how—on the table._

 

_She couldn’t throw a football, couldn’t run a marathon or win an arm wrestling competition, but_ **_goddamn_ ** _was she gifted with a cue._

 

_She discovered her talent in her junior year of high school when Sarah had challenged her to a game and she’d accepted. She’d never played a game of pool in her life, but how hard could it be? She understood the rules, not to mention she had a strong grasp of the geometry involved. Apparently that was more than enough and she found herself crushing all those who opposed her, earning herself a bit of a reputation._

 

_She watches as Sarah pushes her way through the quickly-filling bar to order them both another round of drinks. It’s Friday night and even though it’s still quite early, people are starting to flood in to kick off their weekend. She decides to ready herself for another game once Sarah returns and so she begins the process of gathering up all of the balls._

 

_“Hey, Dreads.”_

 

_She looks up to find a tall, dark-haired boy standing next to her with a chiseled jawline and obnoxious grin that she can only assume is meant to be charming. He’s the typical pretty boy she’s seen around campus and he’s probably used to making girls stop dead in their tracks, but luckily for her, the queerness inside is just too strong._

 

_“Can I help you?” she asks, unenthused._

 

_Instead of granting him her undivided attention, she works her way around the table and continues setting up for her next game against Sarah. Once she’s gathered all of the balls into the triangle rack and she’s certain that it’s centered, she removes the rack and puts it away._

 

_“The news around town is that you’re a real hotshot with a cue,” the irritating boy continues, following closely behind._

 

_“Must be a slow news day,” she deadpans._

 

_She expects him to turn and leave since any moderately-observant individual would have been able to pick up on her indifference by now, but the boy decides to linger and press on with his slow but effective method of ruining her evening._

 

_“So… feel like playing against a_ **_real_ ** _contender?” he proposes._

 

_“No. Not really.”_

 

_A tiny chuckle pierces the air and Cosima lifts her eyes, shifting her gaze from the boy to the blonde who’s sitting at a nearby table with an amused expression stretched across her flawless face. Her eyes remain fixed on the blonde for longer than probably appropriate. The blonde is aware of this, as well, an eyebrow arching as she locks eyes with Cosima._

 

_“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?”_

 

_The irritating boy reels her back into the conversation and she stands up straight, finally acknowledging him fully._

 

_“I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your date,” she says, gesturing to the blonde with a nod of her head in the girl’s direction._

 

_Without any sort of explanation necessary, Cosima is able to discern what’s going on; this guy is trying to put on a show for his girlfriend and prove how manly he really is in the hopes of getting laid tonight. She’s seen the “macho-man” method at work many times and she wonders how girls fall for it—especially a girl like this who seems_ **_far_ ** _out of his league._

 

_“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” he shrugs. “I’m a big boy.”_

 

_Her eyes rake over the blonde once more and something in her stomach flips._

 

_“Well, there’s an empty table over there, Big Boy,” she says, pointing to a free one. “So… buh-bye.”_

 

_She turns her back and tries to distance herself from him, only he catches her by the arm before she has a chance to get too far._

 

_“If you’re that confident, why don’t you play me?” he challenges._

 

_“Because I’m playing with my friend,” she snaps back, pulling herself free from his grasp. “And you’re being a dick.”_

 

_“And where is your friend?”_

 

_“Buying me a drink.”_

 

_She points to Sarah, now making her way back over to them with drinks in hand._

 

_“Ah,” he nods. “Well, she can join us. We can all play together—get to know each other. Two fine ladies such as yourselves shouldn’t be hanging here all alone.”_

 

_Cosima sighs angrily._

 

_“We’re not alone—hence the whole “togetherness” part.”_

 

_For the third time, she finds her gaze drawn to the blonde at the nearby table, legs crossed and chin resting upon her hand as she watches the exchange with eyes that flicker like flames in a fire pit._

 

_“What’s going on here?” Sarah asks._

 

_“I was just challenging your friend to a game. She doesn’t seem interested.”_

 

_“That’s because I’m not.”_

 

_Sarah smirks as she hands Cosima her drink._

 

_“Come on, Cos.”_

 

_“Yeah, Cos. Listen to your friend,” he chimes in._

 

_Cosima frowns, pulling Sarah aside for a brief moment._

 

_“This is supposed to be girl’s night,” she whispers harshly into her friend’s ear.  
_

_“Just a quick game. Beat his ass and then we can get back to it, yeah?” Sarah suggests. “I wanna see you crush his ego.”_

 

_Cosima pauses to consider Sarah’s words. The offer_ **_does_ ** _sound rather tempting, but the idea of giving this guy exactly what he wants also makes her want to retch. And what about the blonde? Is she going to continue staring her down for the duration of the evening? How is she supposed to perform when she has a pair of hazel eyes burning a hole into her back?_

 

_“I’ll even buy you a drink if you manage to beat me,” he adds, attempting to persuade her even further._

 

_“I already have a drink.”_

 

_Suddenly, the blonde rises from her seat and makes her way over to the three, all eyes on her. Her heels click with each step, black cocktail dress hugging her curves tightly with each sway of her hips. She wraps herself around the his arm, giving it a gentle tug._

 

_“She says she doesn’t want to play, Paul,” the blonde speaks, the touch of an accent shining through. “Let’s leave her be.”_

 

_He scoffs._

 

_“Fine. Whatever.”_

 

_Just as the couple turn to abandon his pursuit, something deep within the dreadlocked girl forces her to cry out and draw him back in._

 

_“Hold up!”_

 

_They stop, turning around to face her again. The boy—Paul—looks utterly confused, but the blonde is wearing a knowing smirk, as if she’s successfully steered the evening back into her favour._

 

_Cosima grabs a spare cue, tossing it over to Paul who manages to catch it with ease._

 

_“Game on.”_

 

_Although it isn’t much of a game._

 

_She had been worried that the blonde’s searing gaze would affect her ability to play, though if anything, she finds the fire at her back to be highly motivating and demolishes the arrogant tool in record time. She remains focused even as the blonde circles around the table like some dark creature of the night stalking its prey. Sarah is snickering as Cosima sinks the eight ball into one of the side pockets and lifts her gaze to drink in Paul’s mortified expression._

 

_“Gin and tonic,” she says, patting him on the back. “Double lime.”_

 

_Without another word, Paul stomps away to the bar to make good on his promise._

 

_“See? Tell me that wasn’t worth it,” Sarah laughs, nudging her friend lovingly._

 

_It is._

 

_Especially when she sees how delighted the blonde looks._

 

_“You probably shouldn’t look so pleased,” Cosima tells her._

 

_The blonde cocks her head to the side.  
_

_“And why is that?” she asks, still grinning._

 

_“Well, right now you should be stroking your boyfriend’s fragile ego before he shrivels up like a prune.”_

 

_The blonde laughs, throwing her head back._

 

_“Oh, he’s_ **_not_ ** _my boyfriend,” she declares rather adamantly._

 

_And in her declaration there’s a release of sparks that travel through the air between them. They must be visible because even Sarah takes note, turning to Cosima with an arched brow and crooked smirk as the evening quickly begins to derail into an unexpected direction._

 

_“Thank God for that,” Sarah proclaims. “You can do much better, Blondie.”_

 

_Hazel eyes lock with amber ones._

 

_“Yes. That’s true.”_

 

_There’s a thick silence between the two—a silence that’s interrupted by Paul’s undesired return._

 

_“Here’s your drink,” he huffs, nearly shoving the glass into Cosima’s hand._

 

_And in that moment, the pool shark is thankful that her best friend is both highly observant and quick on her feet; sensing the mounting tension in the air between the two girls, Sarah decides to take matters into her own hand and gift her friend with a little privacy._

 

_“Where’s mine?” she snaps at Paul._

 

_“Uh… what?”_

 

_She slaps him on the arm, nearly making him spill his beer._

 

_“You gonna buy my friend a drink and just piss on me?”_

 

_“Huh?”_

 

_She grabs his wrist, dragging him back over to the bar._  
  
“Come on.” 

 

_As Sarah drags him away, she turns back to give Cosima an approving nod. Cosima beams—she’ll have to remember to thank Sarah later and she’s pretty sure another drink isn’t going to cut it._

 

_“You up for another game?”_

 

_The blonde is leaning against the pool table with a half-cocked grin, her eyebrows raised as she regards Cosima with a growing curiosity._

 

_Cosima chuckles._

 

_“I don’t think he can take it,” she remarks, sipping her drink._

 

_“What about me?”  
_

_The brunette nearly chokes on her gin and tonic as the words leave the blonde’s mouth. The smirking blonde makes her way around the table to close the distance between them, slipping dangerously close for a complete stranger. She reaches toward Cosima, plucking one of the limes off the edge of the glass and bringing it to her lips, taking a bite of the fruit._

 

_“Think you can take me?” she challenges, never flinching._

 

_Cosima sets her drink down, at a loss for words for the first time in her short life._

 

_“I… uh… y-you know how to play?” she stammers._

 

_The blonde laughs._

 

_“Of course I do,” she retorts, discarding the lime into an empty, abandoned glass on a nearby table._

 

_She grabs Cosima’s cue._

 

_“Do you really think I’d challenge you if I didn’t?”_

 

_“Sorry. I just thought—I really shouldn’t make assumptions.”_

 

_“No, you shouldn’t.”_

 

_The two lock eyes again as the blonde begins to chalk her cue. Cosima fishes for the other one, grabbing the chalk from the blonde once she’s finished with it. As she prepares herself mentally for the challenge ahead of her, the blonde gathers all of the balls and centers them with the rack. Once they’re both satisfied with their preparations, Cosima exhales a deep breath._

 

_“You break?” she offers._

 

_The blonde smiles, leaning over the table in an over exaggerated manner, making sure the spectacled girl has a clear view of her ass. Cosima takes the bait, her eyes drawn to her opponent’s curves as the blonde thrusts her cue forward with a strong and precise stroke, breaking the formation._

 

_“Solids,” she declares, working her way around the table to scope out her best shot._

 

_Cosima watches with parted lips as the blonde sinks another shot effortlessly._

 

_“So,” she husks, tucking a few stray curls of golden silk behind her ear. “What do I get when I win?”_


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Here's the next part! Thank you all so much for reading :) More of Cosima and Delphine's past will slowly be unveiled each chapter (though not necessarily in chronological order). There will be a much more complete picture with time, so be patient. Enjoy!

“Would you just hear me out?”

 

She rises quickly, scoffing at Sarah’s pathetic attempt to justify herself. As much as she loves the girl, she also knows that her friend is a con artist; Sarah will spin a story any way to get what she wants and while it’s an admirable trait at times, she won’t allow herself to be sucked back into her friend’s destructive orbit.

 

“There’s nothing to hear,” Cosima spits.

 

Furious, she tries to place as much distance between them as possible. She storms away from the table, leaving Felix and Sarah to themselves.

 

“Cos, please! Just hold on!” Sarah cries out.

 

Cosima shakes her head, continuing on her way to the door. 

 

“It’s for Kira!”

 

She freezes.

 

Turning around, she sees that Sarah is on her feet now, too. The punk follows after her, stopping a couple of feet away to give the fuming ex-con a little space to process her words.

 

“Don’t you _dare_ bring her into this,” Cosima warns with a vicious glare.

 

Sarah knows she has a weakness for her niece, that she’d never be able to turn her down. Despite being quite gifted in dealing with children, the dreadlocked woman has never wanted any of her own; Kira is the closest thing she’ll ever have to a daughter just as Felix and Sarah are the closest thing she’ll ever have to a brother and sister. They are her family, for better or worse, and she’s never been able to turn her back on family.

 

“Look, I just need to make enough money so I can get away from Vic and start over, yeah?” Sarah tries to explain, her voice softening.

 

Cosima is well-acquainted with Vic and his bullshit despite never having actually met the man. Sarah had started dating him a couple of years ago while she was still in prison and she always told herself that had she been out, there’s no way she ever would have let that happen. Not only is Vic abusive, but he’s as bad an addict as he is a dealer and Sarah knows better than to get herself wrapped up with such volatile people; in their line of work, they have to be careful who they do business with and business with Vic is a powder keg just waiting to explode.

 

“Here’s an idea—dump his loser ass,” Cosima shrugs. “Problem solved.”

 

Sarah shakes her head, running a hand through her unruly mane.

 

“You know it’s not that simple with him,” she protests. “He’s not just gonna let me walk away.”

 

Cosima folds her arms over her chest, expelling an incredulous laugh beneath her breath.

 

“Gee, you sure know how to pick ’em,” she mutters.

 

Sarah assumes her own glare.

 

“Oh, that’s _rich_ coming from you,” she bites.

 

Cosima frowns.

 

Ignoring the dig, she tries to approach the situation objectively; Vic is a problem that must be dealt with. It’s only a matter of time before Sarah becomes seriously hurt or wrapped up in her boyfriend’s shit and finds herself occupying the cell that’s probably still warm from her stay. What would happen to Kira then? Yes, Vic must be dealt with, but is this really the best way to go about it?

 

“Just one job—low risk,” Sarah presses, sensing that her friend is beginning to falter in her stance. “I promise.”

 

Cosima sighs, nearly throwing her hands up in exasperation.

 

“Sarah, even if I wanted to help—which I _don’t_ —they’re gonna be watching me like a hawk!” she snaps.

 

How the hell does Sarah even expect to run a job with her? Surely she’s aware of the scrutiny that would follow. The number one rule to living a life of crime (successfully) is to avoid the spotlight and steer clear of any heat; immediately partnering up with an ex-con you have previous history with is jumping into the fire head-first.

 

“I’ve got it all sorted out,” Sarah tries to reassure her. “I’ve got someone on the inside.”

 

“Inside of _what?”_

 

“This’ll be the easiest job we’ve ever run,” Sarah deflects her question. “Once it’s done, we’ll be off to South America before anyone can put two and two together.”

 

Cosima sighs again.

 

“And what if I don’t wanna dip to South America?”

 

Sarah pauses, arching a brow.

 

“Oh, come on. You really wanna stay here? And what—work for Bobby forever?” she challenges.

 

Cosima takes a step closer, placing a hand on Sarah’s arm.

 

“I’m not running, Sarah,” she repeats herself. “It’s no way to live.”

 

Sarah frowns, her expression shifting completely.

 

“You know, you were _so_ ready to dump all of us and run off with Delphine,” she argues. “You’d do it for that lying bitch but you wouldn’t do it for your own bloody _family?”_

 

“That’s not what this is about and you know it,” Cosima warns.

 

“Then what is it about? Cause honestly, Cos—what’s the plan here? If you’re not gonna go back to school and become some famous scientist, what’s the endgame?”

 

Sarah’s barrage catches her off guard.

 

“The way I see it, we’re all you’ve got,” she continues. “Why do you wanna waste any more time in this shite hole? You just spent five years in a fucking cell. Let’s go drink coconuts on a beach somewhere and forget that any of this ever happened.”

 

Drinking coconuts on a secluded beach sounds good… _too good._ While a part of her is desperate to shed the last five years like an old layer of skin, she knows better. How the hell could she possibly forget? After everything she’s been through, better or worse, how could she try to deny it now? Part of growing as a human being means facing your problems head-on. If she were to run away with Sarah and Felix and Kira, how would she be fixing any of her problems?

 

“I _can’t_ forget,” she admits, her voice low.

 

“Sure you can—”

 

“No, I can’t!” she snaps. “Last I checked, I was the one doing time— _not you_. You have no idea what it’s like.”

 

There’s venom in her voice and perhaps she’s being a bit too harsh with the Brit, but she needs Sarah to understand that this is something she can’t just walk away from; even if the last five years have felt like some awful nightmare, she can’t magically wake up and pretend that they never happened. 

 

This is her life.

 

This is her reality now.

 

“I-I’m sorry, Cos,” Sarah apologizes, sensing the turmoil burning within her friend. “I didn’t mean to—”

 

“Look, can I just enjoy my first twenty-four hours of freedom? I haven’t even had a chance to wash that place off me yet,” Cosima pleads. “I just wanna get drunk with my friends and eat a whole pint of Ben and Jerry’s and catch up on the Marvel Universe that I’ve missed out on. Can’t things just be easy for one fucking night?”

 

“I can do you one better.”

 

Both women turn to acknowledge Felix who’s finally decided to join the conversation. He twirls a perfectly rolled joint in his fingers, dangling it in front of Cosima to distract her from her worries.

 

“Felix, you are a _God_ ,” she exclaims, grabbing the joint from his hand.

 

“So I’ve been told.”

 

She never considered herself a true stoner until she was forced to survive without it for five years. When she was younger, smoking pot had been a means of taking the edge off after a long day or loosening her up if she found herself too tense. She didn’t realize how much she had come to rely on it until she had lost that privilege; every day in prison was long and tense and without her go-to relief, she was forced to confront all the anxieties she held at bay.

 

Right now, this joint is her entire fucking life.

 

“That’s what you need!” Sarah proclaims, grabbing her shoulder and giving her a rough shake. “A spliff and a shag!”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Ooh, Sarah’s right,” Felix nods. “You’ve been locked up a long time, darling. Let’s find you something tasty to rub up against.”

 

Cosima laughs.

 

“This is all I need right now, thanks,” she dismisses them, placing the joint between her lips.

 

“That’s not true,” Felix argues “God, if I had to spend five years completely celibate, I think I’d explode.”

 

“Well. There are ways to get by,” she shrugs.

 

Sarah narrows her eyes, inspecting her friend closely. It only takes a few seconds for the lightbulb in her head to flash on, illuminating her.

 

“Hold on a second—did you have yourself a prison girlfriend?” she asks.

 

Cosima freezes, a deer caught in the headlights.

 

Felix gapes.

 

“You totally did!” he nearly jumps, overcome with excitement. “What did she look like? Was she, like, your prison mum? Or were _you_ the mum? Honestly, I can’t see you as—”

 

“Would you two knock it off?” Cosima laughs, giving them both a shove for good measure.

 

“Oi! Bobby!” Sarah calls out.

 

The bartender looks up from the bar for a second, her eyes landing on the three.

 

“Cosima had a prison girlfriend!” Sarah shouts.

 

The entire bar stops, all of the patrons fixing their gaze on the loud group. Cosima groans as she’s met with a few cheers and hollers from gawking men who now seem more invested in her love life than she’s been in years.

 

Bobby merely shrugs.

 

“Girl’s gotta eat,” she remarks.

 

Sarah and Felix erupt into a fit of laughter and Cosima smiles.

 

Things are finally starting to feel like they did before and she wonders if maybe it _is_ possible to find her way back—to find a way to accept these last five years without letting them consume and define her. 

 

Maybe Sarah does have a point.

 

This family that they’ve made for each other is everything; it’s all any of them have now and they _have_ to preserve it, no matter what the cost. If this is how she can start over while still holding onto the people she loves the most, then maybe she’s obligated to do her part.

 

_Maybe._

 

But she doesn’t want to think about that right now.

 

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Cosima laughs, leaving the two to their juvenile ways.

 

Right now, she could use a little bit of privacy and a whole lot of THC in her system to help her process the pile of shit that’s just been dumped into her lap. She pushes through the door and glances around for someone with a lighter, relieved to find a slightly older gentleman smoking a cigarette a few feet from the door. She bums a light, inhaling her first drag as deeply as her lungs will allow and holding it in until she feels that familiar burn.

 

“Looks like your night’s just getting started.”

 

She exhales slowly, lashes fluttering before she pries her eyes open again to match a face to the voice. The woman standing before her is a stranger—blue eyes peer back at her, perfectly complimenting the flowing blonde locks that cascade down her head, framing her delicate features.

 

“Yeah. I guess,” she nods, staring perhaps a bit too intently at the visitor.

 

She knows she should be past it—that the very sight flowing, golden curls shouldn’t evoke such a visceral response—but she can’t control it. 

 

_It’s not her,_ she tells herself.

 

Delphine is gone—has been gone for a long time.

 

_It’s not her._

 

This woman, with her easy smile and warm gaze, is a completely different person. She’s probably kind, probably has a decent job and a loving family and _certainly_ no daddy issues or death drive.

 

_Delphine has better hair._

 

“Do you… want some?” Cosima offers.

 

The blonde’s smile grows.

 

“Sure.”

 

Cosima returns her smile, passing the joint to her new friend. The woman readily accepts it, bringing the joint to her lips and inhaling.

 

“I’m Casey,” she introduces herself.

 

“Cosima.”

 

The two shake hands and Casey passes the joint back. Cosima takes another hit, trying to find the courage to strike up a more substantial conversation. It shouldn’t be this hard to flirt with a pretty girl; she never really had a problem with it before, but she can’t reign in her thoughts long enough to think of something clever to say.

 

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” Casey speaks, meeting her half way. “You come here often?”

 

“Used to,” Cosima shrugs. “I… went away for a while, but now I’m back. I was just having a few drinks with some friends to celebrate my triumphant return.”

 

Casey chuckles. 

 

She reaches into her bra, retrieving a flask.

 

“Well, to your return then,” she toasts, raising the flask before taking a swig.

 

She passes it to Cosima who follows suit.

 

Maybe when she has a few more drinks in her and finishes this joint, she’ll be a little more at ease. She thinks about Sarah and Felix’s teasing before and wonders if they’re right; does she need to get laid? She doesn’t _feel_ starved for intimacy, but maybe a quick night of passion will help her push the past as far back as she can and forget about Delphine altogether.

 

“So, where are you coming from?” Casey pries. 

 

Cosima takes another swig from the flask before passing it back to Casey and chasing with another toke.

 

“Would you believe me if I told you that I just got out of prison?”

 

Casey freezes, giving her a once over. Cosima merely smiles, wriggling her eyebrows as the blonde assesses her.

 

“No fucking way,” Casey nearly laughs. “You don’t look like an ex-con. You look too…”

 

She stops herself, unable to find the right words.

 

“I get it,” Cosima joins in the laughter. “I’m too big of a dork to be a hardened criminal, right?”

  
Casey shakes her head.

 

“I was gonna say “cute,” but dork works just fine.”

 

The blonde tries to keep the conversation light and playful but her words strike a chord somewhere deep within Cosima. Her body tenses, her thoughts transporting her to place much farther back than she cares to visit.

 

“You wanna finish our talk inside? I’ll buy you a celebratory drink,” Casey offers.

 

She opens her mouth to speak.

 

_Yes._

 

One word.

 

One stupid, simple word.

 

All she has to do is utter it—make some sort of noise of confirmation—and she can begin to forget all about Delphine and her stupid hair and her ridiculous accent and the way that the moles speckled all over her back form a multitude of constellations that she’s traced too many times to count.  


“Actually… as much as I’d love that, I’ve gotta jet.”

 

_Coward._

 

Casey deflates, though she masks her disappoint well.

 

“Oh. Okay. Maybe some other time then,” she nods.

 

Cosima bows her head, unable to look her in the eyes.

 

“Yeah. Maybe.”

 

She lingers by the door as Casey disappears inside, leaving her alone with nothing but a roach, her treacherous thoughts and the rapidly descending night for company.

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

_She’s helped Sarah run a few jobs before, but nothing of this scale—nothing this dangerous._

 

_Sarah did what she had to do to get by which is why she never really thought twice about helping her. But Delphine? Delphine has money—lots of it. Delphine doesn’t need to resort to such a lifestyle to support herself._

 

_Even still, she thrives on it._

 

_Delphine is a completely different creature. She’s driven and ambitious. The brunette often thinks her lover is far too intelligent to lead a life of crime, that she could just as easily become a doctor or a lawyer and live a comfortable, successful life._

 

_But this isn’t about comfort with Delphine._

 

_There’s a larger force at play—something Cosima can’t quite wrap her head around that seems to dig at the French girl, leaving her raw. Delphine could take the easy way out, could go to school and make all the right moves and end up with a simple, quiet life, but she refuses. It’s almost like she insists on raging through life, living like a supernova before she inevitably explodes._

 

_Or maybe she won’t._

 

_Delphine is smart—the smartest person Cosima’s ever crossed paths with. Maybe she is good enough to elude the law for the rest of her life and dodge any bullets that may come her way. If anyone can defy the odds, she’s certain that it’s the blonde._

 

_Or maybe she’s already fallen._

 

_Her stomach is trapped in a continuous loop of somersaults, her leg bouncing impatiently as her eyes burn a hole through the door, watching the doorknob for any sign of movement. Until she sees the blonde walk across the threshold unscathed, the paranoia will not subside._

 

_She had been reluctant when Delphine had asked for her help, but how could she say no? Perhaps she never should have brought up her prowess in the first place, but as soon as the blonde became aware of her unique skill set, she seemed even more enthralled by the strange little geek._

 

_“Just one job—low risk,” Delphine had nearly begged her one night. “I promise.”_

 

_“Look, I just help Sarah here and there when she needs it. I’m not, like, a pro or anything,” Cosima had tried to explain. “Not that I’m judging you, but this kinda thing really isn’t in my wheelhouse and I really don’t want it coming back on me later.”_

 

_She somehow found herself holed up in her dorm room, hunched over her laptop at her desk as she typed away furiously, monitoring the situation. All Delphine was asking for was a way in—a way to disable the alarms so she could go about her business. Even though the security system was a fairly simple one, she began to second guess herself and let the paranoia consume her with each minute that passed without a word from Delphine._

 

_What if she had gotten it wrong?_

 

_What if she screwed something up and now Delphine was in the back of a squad car on her way to jail?_

 

_“Shit,” she mutters beneath her breath. “Shit, shit, shit!”  
_

_This was her fault._

 

_She should have tried harder to talk her out of it._

 

_She hadn’t heard any unusual activity on the police scanner she was monitoring that Delphine had leant her and the alarm system was still disabled from what she could see, so what’s taking Delphine so long? She had said she’d check in in a couple of hours but it’s been nearly three and she can only assume the worst at this point._

 

_That is, until the door finally swings open and she’s greeted by a flash of golden curls._

 

_“Holy shit! It actually worked!” she exclaims as she leaps from her seat, completely dumbfounded. “It worked and you’re here and everything’s fine!”_

 

_Delphine grins, closing the door behind her and stalking over to Cosima. She grabs Cosima’s face in her hands and fuses their lips together with a force that nearly knocks the dreadlocked girl off her feet._

 

_“Of course it worked,” Delphine whispers, brushing their noses together. “You’re brilliant.”_

 

_She’s never really considered herself to be a particularly modest person, but for some reason, whenever Delphine showers her with praise and compliments, she finds herself transforming into a bashful child that’s unable to properly accept them._

 

_“Well, I-I don’t know about that, but—”_

 

_Delphine silences her with another kiss._

 

_“You’re a genius, Cosima,” she reassures her._

 

_It’s strange._

 

_She’s never really felt this thrill when she helps Sarah, but her heart is slamming in her chest and she feels a potent mix of adrenaline and infatuation. Maybe this is why Bonnie and Clyde ran wild through a crippled country; she feels young and powerful and completely untouchable in the moment._

 

_She sighs when she feels Delphine’s fingers tease at the hem of her tank top._

 

_“Take this off,” the blonde expels, her command a breathy whisper._

 

_Cosima grins._

 

_“Yes ma’am.”_

 

_Without a second to spare, she peels the top over her and tosses it aside, pausing only when she notices the amused expression upon the French girl’s face._

 

_“What?”_

 

_Delphine shakes her head, laughing._

 

_“You’re such a dork,” she teases._

 

_“Gee, you really know how to rev a girl’s engine, don’t you?” the student jabs, tongue peeking out from behind a row of white teeth._

 

_Cosima tugs at the belt loops on Delphine’s jeans, pulling her girlfriend in even closer until their foreheads are pressed together. The blonde licks her lips—a gesture which Cosima is acutely aware of._

 

_“Don’t worry. You’re a cute dork,” Delphine clarifies, the corners of her lips twitching into a coy smile._

 

_“That’s why you like me.”_

 

_“Among other things.”_

 

_They undress each other in a frenzy, desperate for skin. A part of her wishes they were back at Delphine’s condo where they have a much larger bed at their disposal, but Delphine had insisted upon meeting here and so they have to make due with the uncomfortable twin mattress. It takes them a few minutes to adjust to the limited space, but once they do, Delphine presses Cosima beneath her, working her way down the smaller girl’s body until her face is buried in the generous heat she finds between her lover’s legs._

 

_Most of the time, Cosima finds herself wondering just what’s going on inside the young delinquent’s head. While they do share much in common, there is still so much Delphine doesn’t share with her and she finds herself devoting entirely too much time to deciphering the many different faces of Delphine Cormier._

 

_Yes._

 

_Delphine is a total enigma—except when they’re making love._

 

_There is never an illusion shielding the blonde from her gaze, no possible ulterior motives transpiring behind her eyes when she looks down at Cosima, their bodies writhing together in blissful ecstasy. This is the one time Cosima is certain that the two exist on the same plane—that Delphine’s mind is not such a distant and impenetrable thing; they fuck like it’s their last day to live, like nothing else exists for them outside of each other._

 

_When they’re finished, Delphine rests between Cosima’s legs, her head resting upon the fleshy cushion of Cosima’s thigh. Cosima smiles sheepishly, reaching down to run her hand through wild locks, fingers toying with the golden curls._

 

_They stay like that, silent, for many minutes._

 

_“This is so perfect,” Delphine sighs, finally breaking their easy silence as she looks up at Cosima with a smile._

 

_“Yeah,” Cosima agrees, beaming back down at her._

 

_She’s been in relationships before, she’s had random flings before, but nothing that’s ever felt quite like this; she feels electric, like she’s experiencing the world in a whole new way. All of her past partners were companions in the simplest sense of the word—they enjoyed each other, killed time together, but there was never anything deep or substantial about any of them. She’d never really wanted anything deeper and certainly hadn’t been looking for it that night when she’d wandered out with Sarah to grab a few drinks and shoot a few games of pool._

 

_And yet, here she is—entwined in bed with this golden goddess—with this girl who’s challenged everything she thought she knew about herself. She never could have pictured herself in this position but there’s something about all of this that feels strangely…_ **_right._ ** _She knows Delphine is one giant puzzle she may never be able to piece together fully, but despite the uncertainty of it all, it somehow makes sense._

 

_“You know, I never wanted a partner. I never thought I needed one,” Delphine begins, absently tracing the jut of Cosima’s hipbone. “But the two of us? There’s nothing we can’t do. We could take this city in a heartbeat.”_

 

_Cosima tenses._

 

_Partner?_

 

_“Hey now,” she chuckles nervously. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”_

 

_Sensing her lover’s uncertainty, Delphine shifts until she’s sitting up, urging Cosima to do the same. She gives Cosima a very serious look, reaching for her hand and tangling their fingers together._

 

_“I know you feel it, too.”_

 

_What is she supposed to say?_

 

_Delphine is right—she does feel it—but even still, that doesn’t mean she wants to jump head-first into whatever world Delphine’s been inhabiting for God knows how long. Her mother used to say that being in a successful relationship meant accepting everything about your partner—even the parts you aren’t necessarily thrilled about—and being willing to walk side-by-side through each other’s bullshit; if you could do that, then you could work through anything._

 

_But could she really do that?_

 

_“This… this is good, Cosima,” Delphine tells her, bringing Cosima’s open palm to her lips to plant a lingering kiss._

 

_She stares into pools of deep hazel that beg her to trust—to dive in with abandon and commend herself fully to whatever awaits them at the bottom. She chews anxiously on her bottom lip, unsure of what she should make of such a request; she’s always been the kind of girl who’s had her feet fixed firmly to the ground and she wonders if she should stick to what she knows or risk taking the plunge._

 

_“I-I don’t know, Delphine,” she meekly protests. “You said it was just gonna be one job. I don’t think I—”_

 

_She’s interrupted by soft, consoling lips that put her mind at ease._

 

_“Okay,” Delphine agrees._

 

_Cosima blinks a few times, confused by how easily her lover has conceded. She learned the very first night they met that Delphine always gets her way and she expected far more resistance than what she’s currently being met with._

 

_No._

 

_Delphine smiles at her, eyes soft and inviting, not a trace of frustration or disappointment anywhere upon her face._

 

_“I promise that I’ll never make you do anything you’re not comfortable doing,” Delphine tells her._

 

_“Seriously?”_

 

_Delphine laughs, pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth._

 

_“What? Did you think I’d force you into something?”_

 

_Cosima finds her smile again._

 

_“No, no. Not at all. I just thought—well, you said you always get your way. I figured you wouldn’t budge so easily,” she shrugs._

 

_Delphine surges forward, the suddenness in her movements forcing Cosima back down until she’s flat against the mattress again with the blonde’s arms pressed on either side of her head, boxing her in. Delphine gazes down at her,face veiled with tousled locks but her smirk still very visible. Cosima’s smile only grows, especially when Delphine leans in, pressing their foreheads together._

 

_“I would love to work with you, Cosima,” she admits. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who I’d want to share this part of my life with. You’re the only person I trust enough.”_

 

_“Really?”_

 

_The blonde caresses her face gently, her thumb tracing the ridge of her brow, the bridge of her nose, the fullness of her lips._

 

_“I just want you to be happy. I want to take care of you. That’s all.”_

 

 


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Note:** Now this is where things actually start to pick up ;) Thank you all so much for reading and sharing your thoughts with me. As always, your feedback is much appreciated. Enjoy!

“Okay. Surveillance is offline and alarms are disabled. You’re good to go.”

 

She adjusts her headset, leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms high above her head to straighten her back. When she feels that satisfying ‘crack,’ she relaxes again and expels a quiet sigh, trying to swallow her nerves and remember why she agreed to all of this bullshit in the first place.

 

“Please tell me you’re not gonna start bugging out,” a gruff voice mutters from behind. “I’m not really good at the whole “calming chicks down” thing.”

 

She turns in her chair, glaring at the ragged man sprawled out on the couch. He wriggles his eyebrows in return, offering her a crooked grin that is supposed to be charming but only irks her even further.

 

“Well, forgive me for being a little on edge, but I _did_ just get out of prison after pulling shit like this,” she counters.

 

“Don’t freak out on me now, yeah?” she hears Sarah’s familiar voice clearly through her headset. “I need you to keep your head on straight.”

 

“I’m not freaking out!” she protests. “I’ve got this under control. It’s like riding a bike.”

 

“With your coordination, that doesn’t bode too well,” the man chuckles.

 

She reaches for her bottle of water, tossing it across the living room until it hits him square in the chest and he continues to laugh, kicking his feet in the ear.

 

“Ouch. The sass is back.”

 

“It never left,” she warns him.

 

She hadn’t really planned on shacking up with her cousin, but rooming with Sarah wasn’t really an option as the punk didn’t have a steady place of her own and Felix’s line of work made living on his couch quite awkward. Tony was the only other person she could think of that would take her in and while his tiny apartment was far from glamorous, she was grateful for his hospitality… when he wasn’t being an annoying dick. He was familiar with her situation, dabbling in the criminal underworld himself, so she didn’t have to worry about defending her mistakes or trying to explain herself to him.

 

“Do you mind?” Sarah buzzes in her ear, clearly annoyed by the distraction. “I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

 

“Yeah. Sorry. You’re good,” Cosima reiterates. “Everything’s all clear.”

 

She had reached out to a few of her old Runewars buddies to hook her up with the necessary hardware to do the job and like always, they had come through without asking any questions (she thinks they secretly like the thrill of being involved in illegal activities). It hadn’t taken her very long to set herself up in the corner of Tony’s living room and make contact with Sarah.

 

Now all there is to do is wait and keep watch.

 

“Want a beer?” Tony asks, disappearing into the kitchen.

 

She declines, her fingers tapping nervously against the plastic of the fold out table she’s been using as a desk. Tony reappears a minute later with a beer in hand, popping the tab and tipping his head back as he takes a generous swig from the can.

 

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on,” Cosima speaks into the microphone on her headset.

 

“S’all good,” Sarah chimes back. “Just like I said—easy pickings.”

 

“Don’t count your chickens just yet,” Cosima mumbles.

 

If there’s one thing she’s learned, it’s that this shit can turn on dime; the job itself seemed simple enough when Sarah briefed her, but even the easiest jobs can get botched if the unexpected arises. As far as the unexpected goes, Sarah agreeing to a job like this is about as far out of left field as it gets.

 

When they were teenagers, Sarah would would rob houses and electronics stores and pawn off her spoils to make a quick buck. When she was in college, the punk had turned her sights to museums and galleries. With Felix’s artistic capabilities, they were able to produce almost identical counterfeits that could easily fool the untrained eye, not to mention many connoisseurs. There was certainly a market for it; they could sell the original to the highest bidder, ransom it, or—Felix’s favourite—sell the counterfeits to desperate and pretentious yuppies who had no idea that they were really spending all of their money on knockoffs. However, once Cosima went to prison and they lost their trusted computer expert, Sarah and Felix had no choice but to ease up on their endeavours; Sarah had resorted to conning wealthy marks and street-level drug dealing with her loser boyfriend while Felix mostly dealt in prostitution. When Sarah had initially propositioned her, Cosima assumed that their target would be their typical museum or gallery—certainly not some large corporation.

 

“About a month ago, some woman contacted me saying she had a job. I thought she was a cop or she was trying to blackmail me—she knew who I was, knew about my family, all that shite,” Sarah had told her. “Turns out, she just needed someone to break into a facility and steal some files.”

 

“And why, exactly, did she seek you out?” Cosima had asked. “You’ve never done anything like this before. It’s, like, Mission Impossible-level shit.”

 

“I dunno. That’s what I told her. But she was pretty fucking insistent that I be the one to do it. She said she trusted my skills and needed someone completely out of the loop—couldn’t risk it being traced back to her. Since I’m so far removed from everything, I guess that makes me the best person for the job.”

 

“And that doesn’t seem fishy to you?” Cosima had countered. “Some lady you’ve never met before shows up out of the blue, somehow knows all about your sordid past and asks you to steal some computer files?”

 

“She offered me 200k.”

 

“Ah.”

 

She had looked into this “DYAD” company and their work was actually quite fascinating—right up her alley. It made sense that a company like DYAD could be working on a number of top-secret projects that competing corporations would want to get their hands on. If that is the case, these files could definitely be worth the 200k that Sarah was offered. While the security system is rather advanced—one of the most sophisticated she’s ever encountered—after doing the proper research and procuring the right equipment, she’d easily found her way around it.

 

“Are you on the tenth floor yet?” Cosima asks. 

 

“Almost there.”

 

Tony watches his cousin with an arched brow, eagerly drinking his beer from the couch as he watches Cosima at work. 

 

According to Sarah’s contact, the files are stored on the tenth floor which requires a pass card to enter. It hadn’t taken Cosima very long at all to determine what kind of system was in use and to then replicate a card that would grant Sarah access. 

 

“I’m here,” Sarah speaks. “Your pass card works.”

 

“Of course it does,” Cosima retorts with the hint of a smirk. “Don’t doubt the master.”

 

Even though a job like this wasn’t something Sarah typically dealt with, Cosima had certainly encountered her fair share while she was still working with Delphine. She had dealt with a very similar system in the past which was why she was confident that she could pull off a job like this with relative ease on her part.

 

“There we go. That’s the geek monkey I know.”

 

Cosima chuckles.

 

She leans back in her chair again, breathing a sigh of relief. It should be smooth sailing from here on out; all Sarah has to do is download the files onto the external hard drive and then it’s back the way she came—no one will ever even know she was there.

 

“Not too shabby, cuz,” Tony chimes in.

 

“I told you I was pretty good,” Cosima shrugs.

 

“Yeah? Then how’d your ass get busted?”

 

She opens her mouth to throw back a witty retort but a rapid blinking on her laptop monitor drags her attention back to the task at hand.

 

“What—?”

 

She begins typing furiously, her heart sinking in her chest. 

 

“Uh, Cos? What the hell is going on?” Sarah asks, her voice laced with panic.

 

She can hear the alarm through the headset and Tony sits up straight, the shit-eating grin vanishing completely from his face once he notices that something’s gone very wrong.

 

“I don’t know!” Cosima exclaims. “This shouldn’t—”

 

She stops once her worst fears are confirmed.

 

“There’s someone else in there!”

 

“What?”

 

“I just got booted from the system,” Cosima explains. “Give me a second—I’ll get us back.”

 

“It’s a bit too late for that!” Sarah snaps.

 

“Shit!”

 

She slams her fist against the plastic table, her heart slamming behind her ribcage.

 

“You have to get out of there! Half the cops in town are gonna be there in five minutes!”

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

“You told me you had it!” Sarah barks, running down one of the impossibly long corridors she’d traversed on her way in.

 

This was a disaster.

 

She hadn’t been able to download the files. Not only that, but if she didn’t haul some serious ass, she was going to end up like Cosima—rotting in prison for the foreseeable future.

 

“I-I know! I didn’t think we’d have interference!” Cosima tries to defend herself, shouting fearfully through the headset. “You didn’t tell me we’d have competition!”

 

“How the hell was I supposed to know?”

 

Marion hadn’t said anything about _this._ She said that the security system would be difficult to bypass, but if she had the right person behind the computer, it wouldn’t be too big of an issue. How the hell was she supposed to know that someone else would be trying to break into DYAD at the exact same moment?  


“You should have scoped out the job a little better. This was sloppy!” Cosima snaps. “You’re fucking lucky I’m back in the system. The elevator should be back online and cameras are still disabled.”

 

She’s tempted to lose it on her newly-freed friend, but she’s too occupied with trying to save her own ass to unleash her full fury and frustration upon Cosima.

 

“So this is _my_ fault? You’re the geek monkey! You’re supposed to have an answer for everything!”

 

She turns another corner but comes to a screeching halt when she finds herself staring down the barrel of a gun.

 

“Whoa. Easy,” she expels, raising her hands slowly into the air to indicate that she’s a non-threat.

 

She looks up from the barrel to stare into the eyes of her guest; a pair of deep, hazel eyes glare back at her, though the person’s face is concealed behind a balaclava—not exactly the most original disguise. Her own mask is much more distinct—a monkey that Cosima had picked out in a Chinatown shop earlier that day. She had laughed about it, said that she should try to have a sense of humour about the whole thing.

 

“So _you’re_ the friend that tripped the alarm when you kicked us out of the system?” she asks, looking them up and down.

 

Despite the disguise, she notices that her guest is quite slender and small in comparison to the average man—about 5’7”. She shouldn’t be surprised by the fact that another woman is the one responsible for the clusterfuck considering all the jobs that she’s run in the past, but she certainly hadn’t been expecting it.

 

“Look, every cop in the city is gonna be here any minute now! We don’t have time for this!” she tries to convince the intruder. “The only way either of us is going to make it out of here is if we both run now!”

 

When the woman doesn’t reply, her anger flares.

 

“Do you hear what I’m saying at all?”

 

“Or I can shoot you in the leg and ensure that you get captured to take the heat off me,” the heavily-accented voice suggests.

 

Wait.

 

That accent.

 

She _knows_ she’s heard it before. 

 

Sarah inspects her would-be assailant once again; the height is right, the build is right, and the flicker in her eyes is certainly familiar.

 

“Wait… Delphine?”

 

The masked assailant freezes, gripping her gun a little tighter.

 

“That _is_ you, isn’t it?” Sarah asks.

 

Sarah slowly reaches for her mask, lifting it to reveal her face.

 

“S-Sarah?”

 

Delphine lowers her gun and reaches for her own mask with her free hand to peel it off. 

 

If Sarah was angry before, now she’s overcome with rage. 

 

“Oh, you’re lucky you have a fucking gun right now, otherwise I’d kick your willowy ass!” she spits, her face contorting with hatred.

 

She always told herself that if she ever saw Delphine Cormier again, she’d beat the woman half to death and make her wish she were in prison—retribution for everything that she’s done to Cosima. Delphine doesn’t appear to be angry by her presence like she’d expect; instead of being furious that Sarah’s interfered with her own job, her face displays a mixture of concern and confusion. As Sarah stares her down, heavy-breathing and contempt in her heart, she waits for Delphine to make the next move; as much as she hates to admit it, the blonde is the one holding all the cards right now.

 

“What? You’ve got nothing to say?”

 

Another beat of tense silence passes between them before Delphine holsters the gun, surprising Sarah. While Delphine has no real reason to shoot her, she knows the cruelty that the French woman is capable of and wouldn’t be shocked to find her making good on her offer to shoot her in the leg and save herself.

 

“Oi, geek monkey!” Sarah shouts into her headset. “You’re never gonna believe who our visitor is!”

 

She never breaks eye contact with Delphine as she speaks to her partner on the other side, her blood beginning to boil. The very mention of Cosima seems to garner a reaction from the blonde; her eyes widen and a visible tremors rips through her.

 

“Cosima?” she asks, completely bewildered. 

 

Sarah’s eyes narrow even further as she tries to decipher this reaction. It’s a mix of so many conflicting emotions that she’s unable to accurately pin it out. 

 

“She’s—she’s out?”

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

“Are you sure it was her?”

 

“Of course I’m sure. I’d know that voice anywhere.”

 

Cosima paces back and forth anxiously as if suddenly forgetting the layout of Tony’s living room. She feels sick, like she could drop to her knees and empty her stomach all over the floor even with Sarah watching. She isn’t sure if she should sit or stand, if she should take deep breaths or hold her breath completely; her body has its own response, just as it always has with Delphine.

 

“You sure it wasn’t some other French chick?” she tries.

 

Anything.

 

She just needs _anything_ to work with—anything to tell her that this is all some big mistake, that she isn’t being confronted with her worst fucking nightmare. She secretly hopes that Sarah will meet her halfway, but as soft-hearted as her friend can be at times, the punk has never shied away from the truth when it really mattered.

 

“She took off her mask, Cos,” she says quietly, trying to let Cosima down gently. “I saw her face.”

 

Cosima sighs.

 

She always knew that this day could come—that it most likely _would_ come. Even still, she hadn’t planned for it to go down like _this_. She was hoping that she’d have more time, that she’d have some sort of concrete game plan when she finally confronted her ex-girlfriend again after five long, bitter years. She may not have been there in-person to exchange words with the duplicitous woman, but Delphine knows she’s out now and she knows it’s only a matter of time before they cross paths for real.

 

Panic and defeat morph into a mighty burst of anger.

 

“I told you this was a bad idea!” Cosima snaps, nearly kicking the fold out table over in the process. “Not only did we botch the job and walk away with nothing, but now _she’s_ wrapped up in this, too?”

 

“Oi!” Sarah counters, matching fire with fire. “She’s got nothing to do with this!”

 

“Of course she does!”

 

Delphine has _everything_ to do with it.

 

Sarah and Felix had been saying it before and she always dismissed them, but now she sees just how right they’ve been; even if she doesn’t want to admit it, Delphine has been at the center of everything from the second she set foot outside of that prison. 

 

“You listen to me— _nothing changes,_ ” Sarah says with emphasis. “We lay low for a little while until this all blows over. We forget about that twat.”

 

Cosima shakes her head.

 

“But she knows I’m out, and—”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Sarah shuts her down quickly. “It doesn’t matter if she knows you’re alive or dead, if you’re out or if you’re still doing time. She cut you out, Cos—she decided five years ago that you weren’t worth her time, so why should she be worth yours now?”

 

Cosima folds her arms over her chest, her frown expanding.

 

“Maybe,” she mutters half-heartedly.

 

“Maybe?”

 

Sarah steps closer, imposing herself. She tries to smother all doubt in Cosima’s mind before those flames have a chance to grow into something much larger that will swallow her friend from the inside out all over again.

 

“Cosima, she dragged you into all this shit and then just left you to drown,” Sarah reminds her. “When things got bad, she just… _disappeared.”_

 

“Yeah, but I was a big girl. I made my own choices, Sarah,” Cosima argues.

 

She’s not sure if it’s Delphine she’s trying to defend or herself—her own terrible decisions that have come back to haunt her.

 

“It’s not like she ever forced me to—”

 

“Cos, she _manipulated_ you!” Sarah bursts. 

 

Cosima fidgets with the bracelet that dangles from her wrist, brow furrowed and lips drawn into a thin line which threatens to downturn into a frown with the slightest prodding. Did Delphine manipulate her? Maybe. Probably. But there’s no way Delphine could have planned for things to go down the way they did; there’s no way that her ending up in prison was part of her ex’s endgame.

 

Delphine didn’t con her into prison.

 

She did that all by herself.

 

In truth, it’s not her downfall that’s left her so bitter—it’s the fallout from it; even if there were times she felt untouchable when they were running wild together, a part of her always understood on some subconscious level that prison was a possibility—a natural consequence to their risky behaviour. No, she wasn’t bitter about getting caught, about serving a sentence that Sarah and many others thought she didn’t deserve. 

 

It was the five years of radio silence that was the greatest sting of all.

 

In the beginning, she told herself that it wouldn't be so terrible; she could recover from messing her life up completely so long as she had the support of her loved ones, but when she needed Delphine the most, the blonde was nowhere to be seen.

 

Not one visit.

 

Not one phone call.

 

Not a single fucking letter.

 

Five years and after everything they’d been through together, after everything they meant to each other, Delphine had discarded her as easily as a used tissue. And the part that got her the most? That some sick, naive, masochistic part of her actually believed Delphine would come for her in the end. As days turn into months which slowly bled into years, she told herself that Delphine would come… _eventually._

 

Delphine _had_ to come.

 

Even just weeks before her release, she held onto some small sliver of hope that Delphine would be waiting for her at the finish line, just as she always had before.

 

How could she have been so stupid?

 

“Whatever. Doesn’t matter now. There’s nothing more to say,” Sarah mutters. “She can carry on with her shit and we’ll carry on with ours. It’s not like you’re going to go looking for her, huh?”

 

Cosima shakes her head.

 

“Hell no.”

 

Her voice harbours a hint of hesitation despite the boldness in her words. 

 

“Good,” Sarah nods, trying to reinforce her point. “And if she has any sense at all, she’ll stay the hell away. At least we know she’s good at that.”

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

_“Has anyone come for me?” she asks, staring hopefully at the guard from behind the window._

 

_The woman gives her a once over, taking note of her ID tag before lowering her head to read from the day’s log book. She scans it thoroughly for a minute or so before lifting her gaze again to offer Cosima a sympathetic glance._

 

_“Sorry,” she apologizes, shaking her head._

 

_“Are you sure? Could you check again?”_

 

_This is her first day of visitation and she’s been waiting eagerly for the chance to see another familiar face in person—one familiar face in particular._

 

_The woman sighs, her expression softening as she removes her glasses._

 

_“Look. You’re new here. Sometimes it takes a few weeks for these things to process,” she says, trying to offer Cosima a beacon of hope. “I’m sure whoever you’re expecting will make it down eventually.”_

 

_Cosima deflates completely._

 

_“Yeah? Then why isn’t she answering any of my calls?” she mutters._

 

_“Give it some time,” the guard tries, offering her a small smile._

 

_“Well, I have lots of that.”_

 

_Time passes far too slowly in this place._

 

_She hasn’t been able to grab more than an hour of sleep or so a night and even though she’s terrified to close her eyes in this place, a part of her wishes she could disappear into slumber and sleep the rest of her sentence away. She feels the exhaustion in her bones and even still, she’s unable to find any sort of reprieve; the bed (if you could really call it that) makes her tiny twin mattress back in her dorm room seem like a California king and every time she lies down, the walls seem to close in on her._

 

_She hasn't been able to eat. She’s never considered herself a picky eater and has always been willing to try new foods but prison food hardly qualifies as something exciting and exotic. She stares down at the tray of indistinct mush, poking at it absently with a plastic spoon, trying to imagine that it’s tiramisu or some other delectable dessert just to help her with the psychological process of lifting the spoon and guiding the mush to her mouth._

 

_“Uh, hey. Do you mind if I sit here?”_

 

_She stops, dropping her fork onto her tray and lifting her gaze to address her visitor. None of the other inmates have said so much as a word to her and she’s skeptical of any attention she’s suddenly receiving, but when she spies the benevolent-looking blonde staring back at her with a small smile, she wonders how big of a threat the girl can really be._

 

_“Be my guest,” she mutters, gesturing to the empty seat across from her._

 

_She diverts her eyes back to the tray of mush._

 

_“You okay?” the blonde asks, taking a seat._

 

_“Should I be?”_

 

_The blonde cocks her head._

 

_“You’re a newbie, right?” she asks._

 

_“Yep. Fresh meat for everyone to chew on,” Cosima deadpans._

 

_“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry,” her guest apologizes._

 

_There’s something so sincere in the way in which the tiny blonde speaks that Cosima suddenly finds herself feeling guilty for the abrasive attitude she’s assumed as some sort of armour._

 

_“No, I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I’m just… I… fuck.”_

 

_There’s a hundred things she wants to say but her mind is drawing a blank. It’s not as if she can spout any of it to a stranger anyway, so she keeps it to herself._

 

_“I know. This place’ll do that to you,” the blonde says sympathetically._

 

_Cosima sighs deeply, trying to will away the rush of emotions that seem to overtake her at the most random and inopportune times. Her eyes begin to well until they’re glossy and ripe with tears she somehow manages to hold back._

 

_“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” she asks._

 

_The girl reaches across the table, placing a gentle hand atop Cosima’s._

 

_“You just gotta focus. Think about the finish line,” she offers. “Just remember that this isn’t permanent.”_

_  
Cosima tries to hold back her laughter._

 

_“It’s easy to say that now,” she spits, staring down at the comforting hand still resting atop her own._

 

_The blonde offers her another smile._

 

_“It’ll get easier with time. You just gotta help it along,” she says, pulling her hand away._

 

_Cosima watches her carefully, watches as she runs that hand through the length of her hair._

 

_“And how do I do that?” she asks._

 

_The blonde laughs._

 

_“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”_

 

_She knows that her new friend means well, but she has a hard time finding the humour in her words. She could barely stand to be cooped up in her dorm room studying for a weekend—how the hell is she going to make prison work?_

 

_“But seriously—just go through the motions,” the blonde tries. “I know the food’s shit, but you gotta eat. You gotta sleep. As soon as you can get eating and sleeping sorted out, the rest will fall into place a little easier… or at least you won’t have the urge to hang yourself with your bedsheets quite as frequently.”_

 

_Cosima expels a tiny laugh._

 

_“Thanks,” she mumbles._

 

_“Don’t mention it.”_

 

_When she looks up again, large blue eyes are staring back at her. She’s struck by how open they seem—far more open than anything in this fucking place._

 

_“The guards haven’t been as horrible as I thought, but no one else really talks to me,” she says, finally making a solid attempt to strike up a conversation._

 

_“That’s because you have “fresh meat” written on your forehead,” the blonde shrugs. “No one wants to get into bed with a newbie.”_

 

_Cosima frowns again._

 

_“Don’t take offence. Once you’re here a little longer and the other girls get a better feel for you, the conversation won’t stop flowing—trust me,” she tries to explain. “This many troubled women all crowded together, some with consecutive sentences to serve? We’ve got nothing better to do than bitch, and we have more reasons than most.”_

 

_Cosima’s frown slowly dissolves._

 

_“Aren’t you anxious about associating with a newbie?” she asks, trying to fight back her growing smile._

 

_“Me? Not really,” the blonde shrugs. “I’ve got a bit of a reputation—that’ll go a long way in this place.”_

 

_“Really?” Cosima asks, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Are you, like, a serial killer or something?”_

 

_She makes the joke because she knows there’s no way it can be true; there’s no way that a girl like this could ever be capable of such a terrible crime. While they may all be criminals in here, she isn’t blind to the fact that most of the inmates are victims of circumstance rather than the vicious deviants that society would like most people to see them as._

 

_“Nothing quite as glamorous,” the blonde laughs. “My family’s Russian mob. Nobody in here messes with me.”_

 

_“That must be nice,” Cosima muses aloud._

 

_“It has its perks.”_

 

_If there’s one thing she could use right now, it’s a support system. Sure, the Russian mob may not be ideal, but it’s more than she has at the moment and she finds herself envious of the girl’s ties; Sarah’s been too preoccupied with Kira lately to make the trip down to see her._

 

_And Delphine?_

 

_Delphine may as well be a fucking ghost._

 

_“How about you? You don’t strike me as the “career criminal” type,” the blonde asks._

 

_“No,” Cosima shakes her head, gaze dropping in shame. “I’m just a complete fucking moron.”_

 

_The blonde pauses for a moment, considering her next words carefully._

 

_“We’ve all done stupid shit,” she says._

 

_“Yeah, but I knew better,” Cosima counters._

 

_“Don’t we all?”_

 

_Cosima laughs._

 

_“Apparently not.”_

 

_If she did, she wouldn’t be here._

 

_If she didn’t, she still wouldn't be waiting for Delphine to magically appear and take her away from this place like she promised._

 

_“I’m Shay, by the way.”_

 

_She looks up, forgetting about her misery and rejection and rejoining the conversation. She accepts the hand, stretching her own across the table to grasp in gently, allowing herself to forget about her stupid mistakes for just a few seconds._

 

_“Cosima.”_


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Note:** We finally get the much-anticipated meeting between the two! Also, a heads up--this chapter is just a little NSFW ;) Thank you all for your continued support, for the much appreciated feedback and love that you’ve shown me. Enjoy!

“We’ve just gotta lay low for a little while. The cops aren’t onto us.”

 

Cosima nearly rolls her eyes at the comment, filling up the pint glass from the tap at the bar. She passes it to Sarah, then repeats the process for Felix. As soon as the two have their beers in hand, they wander back over to their usual table and Cosima steps out from behind the bar to follow them. It’s still fairly early on a weeknight and the bar is quiet aside from a couple of other patrons who’ve already been tended to, so Cosima takes the time to sit down with her friends for a few minutes to hammer out some details. 

 

“And how do you know that?” Felix asks, casually sipping his beer.

 

Cosima is curious, as well. It’s been three days since their failed attempt and they haven’t heard anything about it. From what she can tell, everything is quiet—too quiet. Why hasn’t she heard anything in the news? Why haven’t the cops tried to contact her?

 

“Marion’s been keeping her eye out,” Sarah replies. “She says she’s on damage control—she’ll take care of it.”

 

Cosima doesn’t understand how Sarah can put so much trust in this Marion woman; she doesn’t know anything about her but from what they’ve able to piece together, Marion is about as shady as they come. Even if Sarah is right—if Marion is somehow taking care of their fuck up and sweeping it under the rug—how is she supposed to just stand by and wait? 

 

“Just relax,” Sarah mutters, gulping down her beer.

 

Cosima fumes.

 

“How am I supposed to relax? I have a _record,_ Sarah!” she snaps. “Wouldn’t it seem suspicious to you if a high-end security system was hacked just a couple of weeks after I’ve been released? I went to prison for a job _just like this!_ Any cop with half a brain in their head would be dragging my ass in for questioning right about now.”

 

She knows she needs to play it cool but the truth is, she’s been an anxious mess. Their botched operation only has a small part to do with it, though; she’s more anxious over Delphine’s involvement in the entire thing and what this could possibly mean for her.

 

“This isn’t going to come back to you, Cos. I promise,” Sarah reiterates.

 

“You can’t promise me that,” Cosima mumbles, shaking her head.

 

She’s heard that promise before and by now she’s learned better than to trust it.

 

Sarah’s expression softens, her eyes shining with sympathy. She understands where Cosima is coming from and realizes that her concerns are completely valid, but she also knows that she needs to keep her friend from slinking down into the dumps; she can’t allow Cosima to panic and wallow in thoughts of prison and Delphine and all of her failures.

 

“This Marion bitch, she’s pretty powerful. She's got some sort of pull in law enforcement—that’s what she told me,” Sarah says, trying to put Cosima’s mind at ease. “She says she’ll make sure the cops never tie it back to any of us.”

 

“If she’s so powerful, why doesn’t she steal the fucking files herself?” Felix asks.

 

Cosima nods, agreeing with younger man.

 

“I dunno,” Sarah shrugs. “But for 200k—who cares?”

 

“ _I_ care,” Cosima counters. “Besides, we don’t even _have_ the 200k. We botched the job, remember? You can kiss that money goodbye.”

 

After something like this, DYAD would undoubtedly be updating their security system and taking the necessary precautions to ensure that it doesn’t happen again. Completing this job the first time proved to be a difficult task and that was before DYAD even knew there was trouble afoot. Now that they know they have enemies trying to rob them? It’s going to be nearly impossible.

 

“Marion says we may have another shot, but it’s gonna take her a little while to get everything sorted. She says she’ll call me once everything’s back in line.”

 

Cosima laughs at her friend’s irrational words.

 

“What? You’ve got cold feet now?” Sarah ask, clearly annoyed.

 

“We got lucky, Sarah. Assuming she comes through and this somehow _doesn’t_ get back to us, we won’t be so lucky if we fuck it up a second time,” Cosima argues.

 

“We’re not _gonna_ fuck it up a second time,” Sarah throws back. “Once we have more details, we’ll be able to do it right.”

 

“DYAD knows someone’s trying to rob them. They’ll be expecting us. What was it you taught me all those years ago? “The trick is, you gotta hit ’em when they least expect it?” Isn’t what you’re suggesting, like, the complete antithesis to your entire thief dogma?”

 

“Cosima’s got a point,” Felix nods. “If they’re expecting you, we’re going to have to approach this in an entirely different way.”

 

“Thank you!” Cosima exclaims, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

 

Sarah frowns, draining the rest of her glass.

 

“Not to mention that our favourite backstabbing bitch is back in the picture, too,” Felix adds. “How does Delphine play into all of this?”

 

The very mention of her name causes Cosima’s body to lock up. 

 

“Would you both just forget about Delphine?” Sarah asks, her irritation building fast.

 

“Oh, I think we’d all like to forget about her, but if she’s also after those files, she probably knows something that we don’t,” Felix says.

 

He’s got a point.

 

Cosima’s never met anyone quite as meticulous as her ex. Delphine simply doesn’t operate in the dark. When she runs a job, she has all of the details sorted out before she even considers setting foot in the building. She has no idea what Delphine has been up to these last five years, but it’s clear that she’s still in the game and if she’s after the same thing that Marion is, she probably has a better idea of what’s going on than Sarah.

 

Cosima shifts uncomfortably in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Who would have thought things would turn out this way? That Delphine would be reintroduced into her life like _this?_ Even though Sarah had told her to stay away, she knows it’s only a matter of time before their paths inevitably cross again.

 

They _have_ to.

 

She used to think that maybe, one day, when she was finally ready to confront her ex head-on, she would look her up and track her down. She would arrive at Delphine’s doorstep and for once catch the blonde off guard. She would be cool and composed as the two of them finally spoke, clearing the air between them once and for all like adults. By the end of the conversation, she’ll have said her piece and be able to move on without looking back.

 

That was the ideal resolution to all of this bullshit.

 

She doesn’t want to be angry anymore. She doesn’t want to feel heartbroken or betrayed. She just wants to understand—to be able to look back at everything with a clear mind. She doesn't want to flinch every time she hears Delphine’s name.

 

“Oh, you’ve _got_ to be fucking kidding me,” Sarah spits, her voice reclaiming Cosima’s attention.

 

Confused, Cosima follows the punk’s angry gaze across the bar to one of the very familiar pool tables where she spots Delphine running a hand along the table’s cloth as her eyes quickly scan the area. As soon as the blonde’s eyes land on their table, Cosima quickly averts her gaze, bowing her head to try and hide.

 

“Shit—shit!” she whispers harshly, bubbling with panic. “What do I do?”

 

“Nothing. Don’t react,” Felix tells her, assuming his best pokerface. “Just play it cool.”

 

“You don’t think she’ll come over here, do you?”

 

She’s supposed to be working and she knows she’ll eventually have to go back to tending the bar, but how is she supposed to do her job with Delphine here? She dares to steal another quick glance from over her shoulder and spots the blonde slowly approaching.

 

“Just keep your head down. Act normal,” Sarah tells her.

 

Cosima nods, keeping her head low and back turned. 

 

“Um… hello.”

 

Delphine’s voice is much softer than she remembers. She thinks maybe the European is trying to shrink herself down to size, to present herself as a non-threat so that Cosima will actually engage with her.

 

“Oh, don’t you _dare_ even start,” Sarah snaps.

 

Cosima tries to discreetly steal another glance of the blonde from over her shoulder and when she does, she briefly makes eye contact with her before whipping her head back around and averting her gaze to the table.

 

“C-Cosima?” Delphine asks, her voice uncertain.

 

“Keep walking,” Felix interjects, matching Sarah’s death glare in an attempt to ward the temptress off.

 

Delphine’s eyes dart back and fourth between the siblings. She draws her lower lip in, chewing absently as she assesses the situation. Sarah and Felix have made absolutely no attempt to hide their contempt and she knows that she’s outnumbered, that she lacks the home field advantage. She remembers Sarah being rabid at times and completely unpredictable and she doesn’t want this meeting to escalate, but she also knows that she can’t walk away without speaking to Cosima. She decides to ignore the siblings for now, her gaze shifting back to Cosima.

 

“Sarah said you were out and I—I needed to see you,” she says, stepping closer so that the brunette can no longer avoid her.

 

Cosima sighs, giving up the charade. She lifts her head to gaze up at the blonde, their eyes finally connecting. As soon as Cosima opens her mouth to speak, Sarah immediately cuts her off.

 

“No! Don’t you say anything!” she snaps.

 

She immediately closes her mouth again, Sarah’s wrath silencing her. 

 

“Can we talk?” Delphine tries, her voice bordering on desperate.

 

“She’s got nothing to say to you, you lying twat,” Sarah spits again.

 

Cosima knows that Sarah is right, that she doesn’t owe Delphine anything at all. She should probably just tell her to fuck off and carry on with the night. She knows they need to have a conversation, but that conversation doesn’t have to happen now, does it? Maybe she’ll leave Delphine dangling for a while just as the French woman left her for five years. Maybe then she’ll know what it feels like.

 

Delphine frowns, running a hand through her hair.

 

“Look, I know you’re probably upset with me—”

 

_“Probably?”_ Cosima scoffs.

 

She knows she shouldn’t speak, but she can’t keep the biting comment to herself. Delphine is surprisingly calm about all of this and while she’s always known the blonde to be level-headed, she was expecting a little more … something? She isn’t sure. She _certainly_ wasn’t expecting Delphine to just walk into the bar she used to regular and waltz right up to her like a goddamn missionary asking for a moment of her time.

 

“Could you please just give me a chance?” Delphine pleads.

 

Cosima bows her head again, her eyes clamping shut as she tries to process her thoughts and reach a conclusion. What is she supposed to do? Should she listen to Sarah and tell her to take a hike? Or should she see this through? She has to have this conversation eventually, so why not now? Because she’s not prepared. But will she ever really be prepared for what’s about to happen? Probably not. But what if Delphine is finally going to explain herself? What if she’ll finally be rewarded the answers to all of the questions that have been haunting her for these last five years? Isn’t that worth an awkward conversation with an ex? When she looks up back at Delphine again, her hazel eyes silently pleading, she can sense the desperation emanating off of her in waves and it’s something she’s never experienced before. She realizes that maybe she’s not as powerless as she thinks—maybe she does have some power over Delphine that she can use after all. Maybe she isn’t going into this weaponless.

 

“Okay,” she agrees.

 

Everyone seems surprised with her decision—even Delphine. Sarah and Felix are gaping and furious as the hacker completely undermines their act. 

 

“Seriously, Cos?” Sarah asks.

 

She knows that Sarah is just trying to protect her, that she’s doing what she thinks is right for her, but this is something that she has to work through without the help of her family. She knows that deep down, Sarah and Felix understand this. That’s why she’s able to stand, bringing herself closer to Delphine’s height as they remain locked in stare.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

Cosima leads her through the bar, completely ignoring the glares of Sarah and Felix. She pushes through the “employees only” door to find Bobby on the other side, the other woman shooting her a confused look—a look which quickly shifts into shock as soon as she notices Delphine following behind her. Bobby is fully aware of their history and Cosima can tell that she’s tempted to say something, but the bartender has enough sense to keep her comments to herself and look the other way while Cosima leads Delphine out through the back door.

 

Once they’re standing in the alleyway, Cosima finally stops. She summons all the courage she can muster, taking a deep breath before turning around to finally face Delphine properly for the first time in five years.

 

A beat of silence passes.

 

The two take the moment to give each other a once over, to confirm that they are, in fact, face-to-face with each other again. Delphine doesn’t look very different from the last time they saw each other—her hair is quite a bit longer but aside from that, she’s exactly as Cosima remembers her… and judging from the smile on the blonde’s face, Delphine’s thoughts seem to mirror her own.

 

“You look well,” Delphine says with a curt nod.

 

Cosima folds her arms over her chest.

 

“You didn’t come here to talk about how good I look,” she mutters with a frown, dismissing her former lover’s compliment.

 

Delphine nods again.

 

“I… I wanted to apologize,” is all she says. “I can’t imagine what these last five years must have been like for you.”

 

Cosima scoffs.

 

“Well, if you had bothered to call or visit or even write me a fucking letter, maybe you would.”

 

Her anger is beginning to rise to the surface and even though she knows Delphine definitely deserves to experience her full wrath, she tries her hardest to maintain the loose grip she’s kept for so long. She doesn’t want to give her ex the satisfaction—to let her see that even though it’s been five years, the French woman still has any sort of control over her emotions.

 

“You’re right,” Delphine says quietly, acknowledging her anger.

 

Cosima is shocked, although she does her best to hide this fact. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she agreed to this conversation, but this certainly wasn’t it. Delphine taking responsibility for her fuck ups? That certainly seems out of character. Maybe she really _has_ changed in the last five years… or maybe this is just another manipulation. Cosima isn’t sure what to think anymore.

 

“I should have… I should have done something,” Delphine admits, her gaze directed at the ground in what appears to be shame. “I should have been there for you, like you were for me.”

 

Cosima inhales a sharp breath, her lower lip trembling.

 

“Then why weren’t you?” she asks, her control quickly slipping.

 

Delphine lifts her gaze again.

 

“I was young. I was scared. I panicked,” she explains

 

She chews on her bottom lip and runs a hand through her hair just as she always did before when she found herself in a difficult situation—when she was upset and trying to hold herself together. Cosima easily picks up on this, but even still, she has a hard time feeling sympathy for her ex-girlfriend.

 

“What about me?” she throws back in her face, voice beginning to rise. “You think I wasn’t scared? You think every day I spent in there was a _fucking picnic_?”

 

“Of course not! I know that!” Delphine bursts.

 

Her voice seems to echo through the alleyway, bouncing off the narrow walls and slamming into the brunette, trapping them both. Cosima can almost taste the guilt radiating off the French woman and while she’d really like to laugh and shrug it off, she can’t deny it—she’s effected.

 

Another beat of silence passes. 

 

Cosima’s chest is heaving as she tries to stop herself from both screaming and crying. Delphine’s lower lip is quivering now, her eyes glossy. She clears her throat, taking a page from Cosima’s book and trying to reel in her emotions which are swiftly spiralling out of her control.

 

“I don’t want to fight, Cosima,” she sighs, her voice wavering with exhaustion. “I’m just happy to see you again. I’m happy you’re free.”

 

There’s a sincerity to her voice that Cosima can’t help but notice. She shifts back and forth on her feet as she tries to find a greater stability, to keep the ground from falling out beneath her. The air is nippy and she hugs herself a little tighter to keep the autumn chill out (or to trap the heat of their reunion inside).

 

“What about you?” she shrugs, trying her hardest to appear uninterested. “What kept you so busy that you couldn’t send me a single letter?”

 

In her heart she already knows the answer but she needs to hear it from Delphine’s mouth.

 

“I’m… I’m still working for Leekie.”

 

Cosima can’t help but laugh this time.

 

“Right. Should have figured,” she nods.

 

“He’s… sort of made me his partner,” Delphine continues, clearly hesitant to reveal too much for fear of striking a chord. “I’m his second-in-command, I suppose.”

 

“Wow,” Cosima laughs again. “Worked your way all the way up, huh?”

 

Delphine frowns.

 

Even though Cosima laughs and shrugs her off, she can see through the smokescreen rather easily. Cosima has always been like this; instead of tackling her problems head-on and actually acknowledging that she’s upset, she tries to feign apathy. They’ve danced this dance a hundred times before and while Delphine is tempted to call her out, she understands that they aren’t quite on that level yet. 

 

“I’m happy you’re back,” Delphine changes to subject. “I was surprised when I saw Sarah—when I heard her say your name.”

 

“Yeah, well, me too.”

 

Delphine smiles.

 

“I didn’t expect any of this, but I’m happy—really happy,” she adds, taking a step closer. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

 

When Cosima dares to meet her gaze again, she finds a warmth in the blonde’s eyes that she’s fallen into way too many times in the past much like a puddle, stubbornly refusing (or conveniently forgetting) to acknowledge the abyss she knows is hiding beneath. _Maybe this time will be different,_ she told herself every time as she launched herself into the air like an eager child with a brand new pair of rain boots on the first day of spring, enamoured by the thought of creating the biggest splash… and yet, every single time she found herself sucked into the depths of Delphine like quicksand, left to struggle and drown.

 

_Not this time._

 

“I’m going back inside,” she says quietly, gesturing towards the door. “I’m sort of in the middle of work.”

 

She goes to move, to step around her ex-girlfriend, but Delphine is quicker.

 

“Wait!” she calls out, grabbing Cosima’s arm.

 

Cosima stops.

 

She stares down at Delphine’s hand on her arm, a shock ripping through her. At first she thinks it’s anger—anger that after everything, Delphine thinks she can waltz back into her life like the Queen of England, full of influence and demands. Or maybe it’s sense memory—Delphine’s touch pulling her back to an easier time where she both welcomed and craved it. Whatever it is, she knows she’s much too tired to deal with it right now.

 

“What do you want, Delphine?” she asks, her voice laced with a touch of anger but mostly exhaustion.

 

“I just want to talk to you,” Delphine says simply, searching her gaze with pleading eyes.

 

Her hand lingers on Cosima’s arm, thumb gently brushing over the skin she finds. Cosima stares at it for another second.

 

“Well, I don’t have anything to say to you.”

 

She shrugs out of Delphine’s grasp but before she can make another move towards the door, Delphine quickly slots herself between her and her destination.

 

“I don’t believe that,” Delphine presses.

 

Delphine was always far too astute for her own good. It was one of the things that Cosima initially found attractive about her; there was simply no dancing around the woman—as a con artist, she could see through most ploys with relative ease, or at least she _always_ saw through Cosima whenever the brunette would hesitate.

 

Cosima sighs.

 

There are about a hundred things she could say to Delphine—that she thought she _wanted_ to say—but standing in front of her right now, she realizes that it isn’t as important as she once thought. All of those conversations that she’d rehearsed in her head begin to melt away. Sure, she could kick and scream and unleash all of her frustration upon the blonde, but what good would that really do either of them? What good is any of it? Did she really expect any sort of closure from this? Is that why she agreed to have this conversation in the first place? 

 

“Look, I’m happy that everything worked out for you—that you got everything you ever wanted—but I’m over it,” she says. “I don’t need this shit in my life anymore, okay? I’m trying to pull myself together and start over. I don’t need _this.”_

 

Now it’s her turn to search the blonde.

 

Delphine blinks a few times, digesting Cosima’s words. She nods slowly, but Cosima isn’t certain that Delphine is really capable of understanding what it is she’s trying to say—or maybe she doesn’t want to understand. It’s a curious thing, watching the French woman struggle—seeing her at a loss for the very first time since they’ve known each other. Delphine has always been so sure of herself and in this moment of truth, she seems… much smaller than Cosima remembers—vulnerable, somehow.

 

Cosima cocks her head, trying to unravel her ex-girlfriend’s expression. It isn’t like before, when they were much younger. This isn’t a pokerface—rather the opposite; it isn’t the absence of emotion on the blonde’s face, rather the mixture and clash of so many different ones that has captured Cosima’s attention.

 

“Can we… be friends? Maybe?” Delphine tries.

 

“Friends?” Cosima asks incredulously. “You wanna be _friends?_ ”

 

They’ve never been friends. Delphine had said it herself many years ago. It was always _more_ with them, always _would_ be more. Delphine Cormier didn’t know how to have friends and judging by the hesitation in her voice, by the confusion in her eyes, she still hasn't figured it out after so many years.

 

“I still care about you, Cosima,” she whispers.

 

Cosima freezes.

 

She wants to launch herself into Delphine’s arms and hold her until the last five years bleed out of her memory. She wants take those words, fashion them into a knife and slip them quietly but surely between the blonde’s ribs until she strikes her heart. She wants to sigh in relief and scream in frustration at the very same time.

 

_What is she supposed to do with that?_

 

“Unbelievable,” Cosima mutters, shaking her head.

 

After all this time, without even a real explanation as to why the blonde had abandoned her in the first place, Delphine throws _this_ at her? This was definitely not what she was expecting and before she does something she might regret, she rushes out of the alley as fast as she can, pushing through the door, leaving Delphine.

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

_“Okay, that’s enough!” Sarah barks, making no attempt to hide her displeasure. “Give someone else a chance to play, yeah?”_

 

_The punk stands on the other side of the table, Tony at her side sipping on a Budweiser, the two of them watching as things heat up between the cheeky brunette and her femme fatale. They’re four games deep and tied at two a piece, both determined to emerge victorious and defend their reputations._

 

_“In a minute!” Cosima dismisses her, chalking the end of her cue as she prepares herself for the next game. “We’ve gotta settle this once and for all.”_

 

_“Settle what?” Tony asks._

 

_“Who’s the better player,” Delphine answers._

 

_They’ve been going back and forth all night; Cosima had managed to claim the first game as retribution for her very first defeat against the blonde, but Delphine had stepped her game up to claim the second. The third game had been neck-and-neck with Cosima narrowly beating out the European and at that point, Delphine had insisted upon five games to settle the score. Cosima was tempted to turn her down and walk away with her title (she_ **_did_ ** _win their initially agreed upon two out of three games), but she found herself unable to defend against Delphine’s puppy dog pout. Delphine had managed to completely disarm her and steal the fourth game, so now all there’s left to do is for one of them to deliver the finishing blow._

 

_“Who cares?” Sarah rolls her eyes._

 

_While Tony is infinitely more amused by the power play that’s unfolding before him, neither him nor Sarah are particularly invested in the outcome. Delphine eyes Cosima from across the table, her gaze deep and penetrating, bordering on predatory. Cosima tries her hardest to ignore it, shielding herself behind a cocky grin that she hopes will knock the blonde off her stride._

 

_“One last game. Winner takes all,” Delphine says, voice low and almost menacing._

 

_Cosima’s smirk vanishes the second she notices the blonde lick her lips, never breaking eye contact. She knows_ **_that_ ** _look—she spent last weekend getting well-acquainted with it. She feels a flush begin to rise up her neck and she prays to God that her face isn’t burning bright red right now._

 

_“You know, I didn’t come here to watch you two eye-fuck each other all night and hog the bloody table,” Sarah mutters._

 

_Her words fall on deaf ears as Cosima’s gaze remains focused on Delphine’s mouth and she tightens her grip on the cue. The corners of Delphine’s lips twitch into the very briefest of smiles before she places her cue on the table._

 

_“Fair enough,” she shrugs._

 

_Cosima immediately snaps out of her spell when she notices Delphine’s resignation._

 

_“Hey! What are you doing?”_

 

_Delphine stalks toward her, each step heavy with purpose—almost as heavy as the look in her eyes which nearly sucks the air out of Cosima’s lungs._

 

_“Bathroom,” she whispers harshly as she brushes by Cosima._

 

_“But… but we’ve got a score to settle!”_

 

_“We do.”_

 

_She watches—awestruck—as Delphine saunters away from her without even bothering to look back. She disappears into the woman’s bathroom and the three of them are left standing in her wreckage like survivors of a category five._

 

_“What the hell are you waiting for?” Tony asks, nudging Cosima._

 

_Cosima places her cue down on the table._

 

_“Should… should I follow her?”_

 

_Tony flashes her a dumbfounded look._

 

_“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”_

 

_“Right, right. Okay,” she nods, hurrying after the blonde._

 

_She doesn’t do stuff like this._

 

_While she’s always considered herself a free spirit in many ways, she’s never been the girl who meets random strangers in a bar and then follows them home for a night of no-strings-attached passion. All of her past girlfriends had been friends first, their relationships slowly crafted over a period of time. She just wasn’t the kind of person who threw herself headfirst into someone else, but Delphine’s rewritten all the rules._

 

_Just what are they, exactly?_

 

_She’d gone home with Delphine after the blonde had defeated her in a quick game of pool and they’d spent the entire weekend entangled in each other like love-starved teenagers. When Monday morning finally rolled around, Cosima had crawled out of Delphine’s bed, slipped into her clothes and ventured off to class as she usually did. Sarah had instructed her to play it cool, that a girl like Delphine didn't like to feel smothered and if she was really interested in pursuing something with her, she’d have to let Delphine define the boundaries. They hadn’t brought up the “girlfriend” topic at all during the course of their weekend together, but then again, they didn’t do much talking at all. All she knows is that there’s definitely something there between them and Delphine must feel it too, otherwise she wouldn’t have reappeared at Cosima’s regular bar the very next Friday with no notice to challenge her to another game of pool._

 

_Cosima knocks three times on the door to the woman’s bathroom and is instantly drawn in, the door swinging open and Delphine reaching out to grab her. Once she’s inside, Delphine locks the door and slams her up against it, their lips clashing together._

 

_“So I guess this means you like me, huh?” Cosima pants, trying desperately to catch her breath as Delphine breaks their kiss to trail her lips down the column of her neck._

 

_“Something like that,” Delphine murmurs._

 

_She nips at Cosima’s neck, teethmarks still faintly imprinted and the flesh still slightly bruised from their encounter last weekend. Cosima groans, burying her hands in the pile of silky, golden locks atop the French girl’s head as Delphine sinks her teeth a little deeper, branding her again. She could care less about pool, about her flimsy reputation or the fact that Sarah and Tony are most likely snickering amongst themselves on the other side of the door; all that matters is the warmth that’s settled in the pit of her stomach—a warmth that is quickly starting to rise, to spread throughout the rest of her body like a fever. Delphine’s hands cup the swell of her breasts through her shirt and bra and Cosima bites down hard on her lower lip to stifle herself, lashes fluttering as her arousal begins to overwhelm her._

 

_The craziest place she’s ever had sex before now was in the back of her car after prom and it had been an awkward experience to say the least. Despite the less-than-ideal location, there’s absolutely nothing awkward about her current coupling with the blonde; Delphine is as graceful a lover as she is an enthusiastic one, her hands knowing exactly where and when to touch, her lips finding the most sensitive spots on Cosima’s body with ease. There isn’t any awkward fumbling, any uncertainty or hesitation. They fit together so naturally that it’s hard for Cosima to imagine herself with anyone else, be it past, present or future._

 

_“I wanna taste you again,” Cosima moans with a lick of her lips._

 

_The words slip out of her mouth and she’s completely unaware of them until she feels Delphine’s body freeze, the blonde halting her ministrations completely. A tiny sigh escapes her lips before they abandon Cosima’s neck. Her hands retreat from fondling Cosima’s breasts and she straightens her spine, standing tall. Even though there are only a few inches between them, at her full height it seems as if she towers over Cosima, boxing her in. The brunette catches a dangerous glint in Delphine’s eyes and she repeats herself once more._

 

_“I wanna taste you,” she breathes, leaning in for another kiss._

 

_Delphine stops her._

 

_“Then get on your knees.”_

 

_Cosima’s confused expression immediately shifts when she hears the throaty words slide from her lover’s mouth. The heat that’s been rising in her belly explodes now and her knees go weak, wetness rushing directly to her core. No further incentive required, Cosima drops to her knees and immediately begins hiking up the blonde’s dress, a strangled yet satisfied moan escaping from her when she realizes that Delphine has so conveniently neglected to wear underwear._

 

_She doesn’t have to look up to know that the French girl is grinning from ear-to-ear._

 

_“I guess this means you like me, huh?” Delphine teases, her hands finding Cosima’s dreads._

 

_Cosima grins, placing a series of kisses along Delphine’s inner thigh before she hones in on her prize._

 

_“Something like that.”_

 

 

 


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** We finally get a little taste of Delphine's back story. Enjoy ;)

She pushes her way past the hordes of club goers, sweaty bodies slamming into her as she tries to make herself as malleable as possible in an effort to evade them. The atmosphere is thick, the lighting dark with quick flashes emanating from the dance floor and the walls nearly shaking, pulsating with loud, droning music that’s blaring over the speakers. As she makes her way deeper into the club, she’s all too aware of white eyes following her, of silver-grey hair flashing in her periphery. 

 

This was never her scene. 

 

She always feels uncomfortable every time she finds herself back here, but the matter is urgent and she knows that on a busy Friday night, this is where he’ll be. When she finally makes it to the unmarked door at the very back of the club, two intimidating men standing guard, she offers them a curt nod and they respond in kind, stepping aside to permit her entry. She pushes through the door and steps into the office, the temperature instantly dropping as she leaves the mugginess and noise behind.

 

“Delphine,” Aldous Leekie greets her from behind his desk, eyes fixed on her. “I wasn’t aware you’d be visiting tonight. I managed to catch you on the cameras. You should have called ahead—I could have had a car sent for you.”

 

“It’s fine,” she dismisses him.

 

He sizes her up with a quick scan of his eyes and she brings herself closer, stopping just in front of the large desk. He gestures for her to sit, but she declines his request and peers down at him with a furrowed brow.

 

“It must be serious if you’re coming all the way down here yourself. Is this about the DYAD job?” he inquires.

 

“Yes—and no.”

 

He cocks a brow, slowly rising from his desk.

 

“Well, now I’m intrigued,” he says calmly, pouring himself a drink from his private liquor cart. “Do share.”

 

Her body tenses. She wonders just how she should break the news to him, how he will react. It’s hard for her to know for certain since his feelings surrounding her ex-girlfriend have always been murky, but she hopes for the best possible outcome.

 

“Cosima is out,” she finally says.

 

She searches him for a reaction but finds none. Instead he takes a drink, tipping his head back and allowing the liquor to slide down his throat.

 

“Cosima?” he asks, as if the name is the liquor dancing on his tongue—subtly familiar.

 

She wonders if he’s toying with her; certainly he _must_ remember Cosima. Even though it’s probably been years since he’s heard her name and he never really worked that closely with the hacker in the first place, Cosima’s downfall had been loud and violent (at least in her mind), and so it was impossible to forget or ignore.

 

“Oh, yes,” he finally mutters. “That’s right.”

 

She keeps her gaze fixed on her superior, trying to gauge his reaction. Even after the flicker of recognition in his eyes, he doesn’t seem enthused over the news she’s shared—not angry or happy or nervous or disappointed. He wears the same impervious look as usual.

 

“And how do we feel about that?” he asks, turning the conversation back around.

 

Now _he’s_ the one regarding her curiously. They’ve grown to know each other quite well over these last five years—well enough for him to know that Cosima is, perhaps, the most defining element of her life. Taking him up on his previous offer, she drops into one of the black leather chairs adjacent to him with a visible frown.  


“She never should have gone down in the first place. It was a mistake— _my_ mistake.”

 

Even after all these years—after all of his coaching and everything she’s had to sacrifice—her feelings still haven’t changed; it was a grave injustice five years ago and it still remains so, perhaps even more than before now that she’s met with her former lover and had a chance to survey the emotional damage that’s been done.

 

“No,” he adamantly disagrees. “Involving her in any of this was the mistake. We both knew she wasn’t cut out for this line of work.”

 

“That doesn’t make it right,” she mutters beneath her breath, head hanging low.

 

He pours a second glass of bourbon and makes his way around the desk with the drink in-hand, passing it to her.

 

“Nothing about this is right or wrong. I thought you would have figured that out by now.”

 

She stares into the glass with a tightening grip.

 

“Don’t lecture me, Aldous.”

 

With that, she closes her eyes, tips her head all the way back and downs the liquor in a few long gulps.

 

He laughs.

 

“What?” she asks, confused by the suddenness of his laughter.

 

He shakes his head dismissively, reaching for her empty glass again to take it away.

 

“You sound like your father,” he explains.

 

She ignores his comment, shaking it off like a bad case of fleas. Suddenly emboldened, she rises to her feet again decides to get back down to business.

 

“We could use her on the DYAD job,” she suggests.

 

She knows Cosima is furious with her, that she probably wants nothing to do with her, but she also knows what she felt in that alley before her ex-lover darted away—a spark. They had _both_ felt it. There was no doubt in her mind.

 

“I thought you said you were taking care of it?” Leekie counters.

 

“I am—and in my opinion, she would be a great asset.”

 

Dragging Cosima back into this may not be ideal, but how is she supposed to just ignore the fact that the only person she’s ever loved is within her grasp again? Sure, the circumstances aren’t perfect, but she’s always trusted her gut and her gut is telling her that she should stay close to Cosima, that she shouldn’t let her go again. If she had only listened to her gut in the first place instead of Leekie and his “expertise,” Cosima never would have ended up in prison and they’d be sipping cocktails on a beach somewhere far away.

 

“Associating with her now is too risky,” Leekie warns her. “Use the team you’ve got.”

 

“You told me that this job was of the utmost importance,” she argues. “Cosima is the best. Perhaps she can even tell us who hired her in the first place—knowing who we’re competing against could prove useful.”

 

He pauses, taking a few moments to mull over her words.

 

“I’ll consider it.”

 

She could leap for joy, but instead she maintains her composure, responding with a simple nod. She doesn’t want Leekie to think that she’s straying down the wrong path, that she’s too invested in Cosima; it had taken her so long to gain back his trust the last time and she doesn’t want him to doubt her commitment.

 

When she leaves the club, she finds herself lost. She usually spends her weekends wrapped up in work, but ever since Sarah and Cosima’s interference with the DYAD job, her work has been on hiatus and so she’s left with too much free time that allows her thoughts to wander.

 

They inevitably lead her back to Cosima.

 

She wonders what her ex is up to, if Cosima’s thoughts are plagued by visions of her the same way hers are; she can’t close her eyes without replaying their most recent conversation on a loop in her head. Cosima had told her to stay away and while she wishes she could, she simply finds it to be an impossible task. 

 

It’s settled.

 

She finds herself pulling into the parking lot nearest to Bobby’s—a bar she hadn’t set foot in in Cosima’s five year absence. It was strange returning to it after so long; not much had changed in terms of decor or ambiance and walking in to find Sarah and Cosima together again at their usual table had thrown her for a loop. She takes a deep breath before pushing through the door for the second time in less than a week, hoping to find Cosima inside. She quickly scans her surroundings, eyes combing over the layout and finding no sign of the petite brunette. She approaches the bar, wondering if Cosima is working tonight. Her question is answered when she feels a gentle tap on her shoulder and turns around.

 

“She’s not here.”

 

Bobby greets her with a sour expression, waiting to see how the blonde will react.

 

“Oh,” is all she manages, deflating. “I was hoping to speak to her again. I didn’t want to leave things on such a—well—I didn’t want to leave things the way we left them.”

 

Bobby folds her arms over her chest, unimpressed.

 

“Well, you made that call a long time ago.”

 

Delphine sighs.

 

“I know that.”

 

She drags herself away from the judgmental bartender, ready to leave. As she makes her way to the door, she notices one of the pool tables clear out and some phantom force pulls her back in its direction.

 

She hasn’t played in years.

 

Not since Cosima.

 

She just didn’t see the fun in playing against amateurs anymore and after Cosima, she couldn’t look at a pool table without feeling a pang of guilt—a jutting reminder of her cowardice. She picks up a cue, twirling it in her hands as she familiarizes herself with the feel once more. She glides a hand over the surface of the table and can almost taste the gin and tonic, the tartness of a lime on her tongue.

 

She smiles.

 

“You wanna play?”

 

She looks up to find a rather benign-looking man reaching for the other cue, offering her a smile. She isn’t really in the mood, but she has nowhere else to be and so she caves, nodding in agreement. 

 

She clears out about half a dozen challengers before the other patrons take a hint, steering clear of the shark in the water. She expels another sigh, running a hand through her hair and putting her cue away.

 

“Guess some things don’t change.”

 

Bobby is standing behind her again with a tray of empty glasses and beer bottles.

 

“Looks like you’ve been cleaning up over here,” she remarks. “How much have you made off these suckers?”

 

Delphine shrugs.

 

“Nothing.”

 

Bobby seems surprised by her response.

 

“What? You not playing the fast game anymore?”

 

It’s a fair question. She could have made at least a few hundred bucks off of these unsuspecting challengers and yet the thought never crossed her mind tonight. After Cosima, the thought of playing for money seemed way too… mundane. Not to mention that her current work made sharking people in bars look like amateur hour.

 

“I didn't come here to run a job,” Delphine mutters. “I just wanted to—”

 

She stops herself.

 

Why _did_ she really come here tonight?

 

“Never mind.”

 

She moves to make her way past the tattooed woman but finds herself drawn in once again.

 

“Hey. Hold on.”

 

She stops, turning back around to shoot Bobby a quizzical look. The bartender looks troubled, like she’s being torn between two heavy choices. Eventually she breaks.

 

“If you wanna speak to her, she’s going out tonight.”

 

Delphine blinks.

 

“Out?”

 

“Yeah. With Sarah and Felix,” Bobby clarifies. “They invited me, but I’ve got a business to run, so…”

 

Delphine nods slowly.

 

“Do you know where?” she asks.

 

“Felix said he wanted to dance. Cosima said she wanted to check out someplace new,” Bobby tells her. “There’s a club that just opened up in the Village about a month ago, so that’d be my bet.”

 

Delphine offers her a genuine smile.

 

“Thank you, Bobby.”

 

Bobby shrugs her off.

 

“Don’t tell her I told you or she’ll kill me.”

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

She miraculously manages to find street parking about half a block away the club which is already in full swing by the time she arrives. She had made a quick stop at her place first, deciding to change into something a little more appropriate for the venue. She still isn’t sure what she’s expecting, uncertain of how she should play this; should she waltz right into the club, find Cosima and attempt to initiate conversation? Cosima would most likely shoot her down, especially if Sarah and Felix are there to offer support. 

 

She must get Cosima alone.

 

Does she go inside, find Cosima and hang back until she sees an opening? What if there isn’t one? What if Cosima or Sarah or Felix spot her before she spots them? Does she risk making a scene in front of all those people? Is there even a right way to do this? Delphine groans, leaning forward to rest her head on the steering wheel. 

 

Cosima can protest all she wants, say she never wants to see her again, but Delphine _knows_ what she felt—there’s still something between them even after all these years. She knows she’s in no position to make demands, but she has to know what it is. Even though Cosima’s erected a strong defence as a means to deter her, she also knows that her witty ex-lover has more to say and she needs to hear Cosima’s piece; no matter how detached or unaffected she acts, she knows that Cosima is hurting, that the only way she’ll ever be able to heal and move on is if she gets it all off her chest.

  
The blonde owes her at least that much.

 

Delphine lifts her head again. She steadies her breathing, deciding that this is the sort of job that can’t be planned out. She’ll have a better idea of what she’s dealing with once she gets inside and finds Cosima. She closes her eyes, collecting her thoughts and preparing to take the plunge, but the second she reaches for the handle to open the car door, she freezes.

 

Cosima comes spilling out of the club, arm wrapped around another woman. There’s ease in her smile, in her eyes. There’s laughter on her breath. They pull away to the side, away from the line of people waiting to get in and Cosima’s companion digs through her purse for a cigarette, lighting it. Delphine watches as the two converse playfully and she feels her heart retch, her grip on the steering wheel tightening until her knuckles are pale. Cosima leans in to whisper in the woman’s ear and they laugh even more, their smiles grow broader. 

 

Delphine quakes.

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

_“You’ve been crying.”_

 

_She sniffles, wiping her nose on the sleeve on her shirt. She hugs her knees to her chest even tighter, pressing her forehead against them. Her eyes are red and puffy and have been for hours—ever since she learned of Cosima’s fate._

 

_This wasn’t supposed to happen._

 

_She feels herself spiralling down, down, down the rabbit hole until she can’t make sense of who or where she is anymore. She feels hollow and yet so very full—full of rage and regret that crash against each other like waves against a cliff, carving out pieces of her. She sits motionless on the floor of her lifeless apartment, waiting for the descent to stop._

 

_“There’s nothing more you can do, Delphine. This is out of your hands,” Leekie tells her._

 

_His words roll around inside of her head for a minute._

 

_“Is it?”_

 

_He stops pacing, staring down at her through narrowed slits._

 

_“Cosima isn’t dying,” he informs her. “She’ll be out again in a matter of years—maybe sooner for good behaviour.”_

 

_She springs to her feet, fury getting the better of her._

 

_“Her life is ruined! Don’t you care?” she screams, her eyes filling with tears once more._

 

_His composure never falters._

 

_“She made her choices, just as you made yours and I made mine,” he tries to rationalize. “We all knew what we were getting ourselves into when we started down this path.”_

 

_“Except_ **_she didn’t_ ** _!” Delphine argues._

 

_Her chest is heaving now, tears coming in full force._

 

_She always knew there was risk involved, but somehow, the threat never seemed quite real until she felt the trap snap around her ankle. Even now, she’s still shellshocked—unable to make sense of just what went wrong and how it all spiralled out of control so quickly; one moment they were on top of the world, planning for their future, and the very next she was watching Cosima getting dragged away in handcuffs, their future turning to ash right before her very eyes._

 

_“Cosima never wanted this! She—she tried to tell me so many times, but I just wouldn’t listen!” she bellows. “She wanted out because she knew something like this might happen and now here she is, suffering the consequences of_ **_my_ ** _actions!”_

 

_This was_ **_her_ ** _fuck up._

 

_It didn’t seem right that Cosima should have to pay the price._

 

_“Stop selling her short,” Leekie snaps. “She deserves more credit than that.”_

 

_He steps closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her, to try to get his point across. He speaks to her sternly like a lecturing father._

 

_“She isn’t some motherless doe who came wandering in for the final act. If she had really wanted out, she had plenty of opportunities to leave—but she didn’t,” he tells her. “She didn’t because she made a choice—a choice to see this through.”_

 

_She shakes her head violently._

 

_“For_ **_me_ ** _!”_

 

_Cosima had made this choice for_ **_her._ ** _She doesn't remember ever asking her to, but then, did she really have to? It was well understood from the very beginning of their relationship that they were a package deal—where one would go, the other would follow. She had led Cosima down this path with the knowledge that whatever happened, they’d be together._

 

_Only they’re not._

 

_“Probably,” Leekie shrugs. “But even if she made that choice for you, it was still hers to make.”_

 

_“I… I have to do something,” she says, her thoughts racing anxiously._

 

_It can’t be too late. There has to be something she can do to fix this. She racks her brain for a solution, for some sort of scenario where they can both walk out of this together._

 

_“There’s nothing you can do.”_

 

_Maybe he’s right._

 

_Maybe “together” is impossible right now, but there must be some way she can help Cosima; she can’t just leave her to rot in a cell that’s meant for her._

 

_“I could turn myself in,” she suggests, her voice weak. “I could—”_

 

_“Listen to yourself, Delphine,” he stops her. “You’re letting sentiment get the better of you. You’re smarter than this.”_

 

_She doesn’t care._

 

_“Turning yourself in isn’t going to change anything. Throwing your life away isn’t going to help her and even if it did, do you really think that’s what she’d want?”_

 

_Maybe he’s right._

 

_Even though she never asked her to, Cosima had taken a bullet that was meant for her. In a perfect world, she would trade herself for Cosima, but she knows that there’s no guarantee such a sacrifice would work out the way she’s hoping; after all, Leekie had promised her that Cosima would never serve a day behind bars and now here they are: all of their plans blown to shit. He was supposed to have the lawyers, the connections, but none of it made a difference in the end. “Unforeseeable factors,” he had told her; no matter how much thought and care goes into a plan, there’s never a guarantee that it’ll work out the way it’s been envisioned._

 

_She can run through scenarios in her head until her brain exhausts itself, but there’s no way to know if any of them will play out the way she imagines them—if they’re possible realities or just hopeful delusions. She bursts into tears again, falling forward into the older man’s arms as he holds her steady._

 

_“What do I do?”_


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Wow. This took waaaaay too long to finish. To be honest, I sort of hit a smut block and then got distracted by the new Zelda game, but I managed to find my way back ;) Anyway, I hope you don’t mind the gap between updates too terribly and that you find this chapter enjoyable all the same. It’s pretty long (over 6,000 words), so I feel like that sort of makes up for it... right? A heads up that this one is also NSFW. Enjoy!

Her smile nearly splits her face as she watches her new acquaintance—Misty—reach into her purse in search of a pack of cigarettes. She hadn’t been planning on ditching Sarah and Felix and wandering off with another pretty girl during what was supposed to be a family night out, but her previous run-in with Delphine has left her feeling flustered and confused and she thinks that maybe the best way to let go of all the bullshit is to bury it in someone else’s bed.

 

It’s not like it can really hurt her at this point.

 

Misty is cute, with pale blue eyes and a bright yet coy smile. She made eyes at Cosima from across the dance floor for a few songs before the dreadlocked woman worked up the nerve to push her way through the writhing bodies and make contact. After a couple of drinks, idle chit chat and a few dances, she found herself invested enough and open to whatever the night had in store.

 

Misty places a cigarette between her lips, raising her lighter to light it. The end glows red as she pulls the smoke into her lungs and Cosima’s eyes fixate on her lips, on the way they maneuver around the poisonous stick before expelling a puff of smoke into the evening air. 

 

Delphine was always such a pretty smoker.

 

It seems like a stupid thing to fixate on, but she remembers evenings spent in Delphine’s condo, a post-coital blonde leaning over the railing on the balcony clad only in a large sweater (or sometimes, if she was feeling particularly bold, nothing at all) sucking on a cigarette. She always thought smoking was a gross habit, but somehow, Delphine Cormier managed to make even lung cancer look good. She would find herself enthralled in the way Delphine held a cigarette so casually, as if it were an extension of her hand—a true Frenchwoman. She didn’t even care if Delphine would return to bed smelling of pretentious French cigarettes because by the time morning came, all that lingered was the smell of sweat and sex and satisfaction.

 

She tries to shake the images from her head and reign in her focus, her eyes returning to her companion. Misty continues with whatever story she’s been rambling on about, flicking her finished cigarette to the ground. When their eyes meet again, Cosima’s smile returns and she hopes she’s a convincing enough liar, that her new friend doesn’t suspect she’s been unfaithful in her thoughts.

 

“Well?” Misty asks, staring at her expectantly.

 

Cosima blinks a few times, trying to quickly piece together Misty’s question so as not to look like a total asshole and blow whatever chance she has.

 

“I… I think…”

 

No matter how hard she tries, she just can’t seem to recall the topic of conversation, images of her ex-girlfriend completely stifling any chance of that happening. She decides that she should give a vague answer, that Misty will hopefully accept it and guide the conversation once more so that she can piece together more details before she’s busted. Just as she’s about to mumble a quick “sure,” her eyes wander beyond the blonde’s head and spot another familiar sight that completely steals the wind from her sails. 

 

Delphine.

 

Cosima tries not to gape as the European approaches, her expression innocuous enough and each stride enunciated with a swing of her hips. Misty takes note of her frazzled expression and arches a brow before she follows Cosima’s gaze, turning around to determine the source.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Cosima asks, trying her hardest not to explode.

 

How the hell did Delphine even manage to find her? She can’t believe that this is a coincidence. Is her ex stalking her now? Is this how things are going to be between them? 

 

“Same as you,” Delphine shrugs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

 

She stops just in front of the couple, seemingly unaffected. Cosima knows better; even though the blonde wears a stoic face, she knows there’s something else at play here—something Delphine is holding down. Even though she knows Delphine well enough to recognize her tell and smell the bluff coming from a mile away, she still has no idea just what cards Delphine is holding in her hand.

 

It’s infuriating.

 

“This is a new club,” Delphine speaks again, trying to explain herself. “I just came to drink and dance.”

 

Cosima stares her down, Misty completely forgotten in the heat of the moment. If looks could kill, Delphine would be bleeding out on the sidewalk at this very moment from all the stab wounds.

 

“Fine. Then go,” Cosima spits through gritted teeth.

 

Surprisingly enough, she does.

 

With a tiny smirk and the subtlest of nods, Delphine makes her way by them. She by-passes the line of impatient (and now angry) club goers, the bouncer stepping aside to permit her entry. Cosima’s eyes follow her the entire way until she disappears inside.

 

“Is everything alright?” Misty asks, gently placing a hand on the brunette’s arm.

 

“It’s nothing. Forget about it,” Cosima mutters.

 

“Okay.”

 

Her jaw remains clenched, her eyes still fixed on the entrance to the club. 

 

_Bullshit._

 

There’s no way Delphine is here to just “drink and dance.” She’s always hated clubs and Cosima can’t imagine that her former lover’s attitude would suddenly change as she’s gotten older. Delphine has never set foot in a club unless she’s on a mission.

 

“So, you wanna go back to my place or yours?” 

 

She knows this isn’t about a job. Delphine is here for _her_ —she has to be. But what game is she playing? Her victory seems far too easy and if there’s one thing that Cosima has learned, it’s that there’s no such thing as an easy victory against Delphine Cormier; every battle is hard-fought, every victory must be earned. And what about that smirk on her face, that obnoxiously-subtle nod? Was that meant as a jab? Or an invitation?

 

“Cosima?”

 

Misty’s voice reels her in again.

 

“Hm?”

 

Misty’s expression shifts, clearly unimpressed.

 

“Do you know her or something?” she pries, folding her arms across her chest.

 

Cosima considers lying, but she can tell by the look in those translucent blue eyes that Misty is far ahead of her, that she’s aware of the game that’s unfolding and she’s unwilling to accept any bullshit answer.

 

“She’s… sort of my ex,” Cosima comes clean with a sigh.

 

“That’s your ex-girlfriend?” she asks incredulously.

 

“I-It’s ancient history! I swear!” she quickly stammers, trying to make the save.

 

“Doesn’t seem like ancient history.”

 

“Well, it is,” she insists.

 

Cosima manages to hold her ground in their brief stare down until Misty relaxes again.

 

“Okay. Fine,” she accepts. “I was asking if you wanted to come home with me?”

 

“Yeah. Sure. Definitely,” Cosima nods, perhaps a little too eagerly. “I—I just gotta… I mean—”

 

She stops, her eyes wandering back over to the entrance.

 

“Just let me find my friends and say goodbye. Give me five minutes?”

 

Misty eyes her carefully, ultimately deciding to go along with it. She nods, reaching into her bag for yet another cigarette as Cosima smiles, apologizing before hurrying inside. 

 

She isn’t _entirely_ lying.

 

She _should_ find Sarah and Felix and tell them where she’s going. 

 

She spots the duo right where she left them—in their own little corner on the dance floor—completely lost in the music. Sarah thrashes her body around rather aggressively while Felix dips and rolls, both of them clutching their drinks and grinning like idiots. Instead of making her way over to them, her eyes continue to scan the bar until she finds what she’s really looking for; Delphine is leaning against the bar and as soon as their eyes lock, she knows there’s no way she can bow out now without looking like some sort of coward. She looks back over to Sarah and Felix one last time before stalking over to the bar, trying to decipher Delphine’s expression the entire time.

 

“Where is your friend?” Delphine coolly asks as soon as Cosima is close enough to hear.

 

“Waiting for me outside.”

 

Her eyes sink to the glass in the blonde’s hand—a gin and tonic, double lime. She feels her blood begin to scream, feels her entire body tense as her eyes then focus on Delphine’s sliver of a smile.

 

“Then why are you inside?” Delphine challenges.

 

“I’m looking for Sarah and Felix,” Cosima snaps, quickly formulating an excuse.

 

“Over there,” Delphine answers.

 

She nods her head toward the dance floor and Cosima’s eyes follow the gesture until they land on the duo once again. Neither of them seem to have noticed her and she wonders how long it’ll stay that way—how long she has before one of them looks over and sees her talking with the she-devil.   
  
Should she risk it?

 

She turns her attention back toward Delphine, drinking in the cocky smile, the raised eyebrows. 

 

There’s no way she can give her the satisfaction.

 

She turns around and quickly storms away, completely forgetting about Sarah and Felix while caught up in her anger. She can almost hear her ex laughing as her bluff is called, her shitty hand exposed… but she’s determined to have the last laugh.

 

Outside again, she spots Misty standing by the curb, leaning against a parking meter.

 

“Are you good to go?” Misty asks her.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Wanna hail us a cab?” Cosima suggests.

 

She tries to smooth out her dress, to regain her bearings. She’s not going to let Delphine spoil the night for her and so she expels a deep breath, trying to center herself.

 

“Are you okay?” Misty probes. “You seem… I don’t know.”

 

“I’m fine. Just…a little off balance,” Cosima acknowledges.

 

Misty sighs.  


“It’s your ex, isn’t it?”

 

Cosima nods slowly, silently.

 

“Things didn’t end well. We haven’t seen each other in years,” she confesses, trying to hold back the shame. “I just really wasn’t prepared to run into her tonight.”

 

It isn’t like her to air her dirty laundry, but there’s no sense in lying to Misty now when the truth is so plainly etched onto her face. She just needs to explain herself, make Misty see that her relationship with Delphine is in the past and that she’s ready to move on. She offers her new friend a smile, trying to convince her that everything’s fine.

 

“Look,” Misty begins, eyes dropping to the ground. “I’m just gonna go, okay?”

 

Cosima’s smile vanishes.

 

“What?” she asks, panic filling her. “No, no, no! Don’t go!”

 

Misty sighs once more, composing herself. 

 

“You two should talk. You’ve clearly got some issues to sort out.”

 

This is _not_ how the evening is supposed to go. 

 

She’s supposed to go home with Misty, spend the rest of the night fucking and then wake up in the morning with thoughts of Delphine somewhere far behind her. Instead, Misty offers her a reserved smile and Cosima’s entire face feels hot with embarrassment.

 

“It was really nice to meet you, Cosima,” Misty tells her. “And when the two of your sort your shit out, maybe you can give me a call?”

 

Cosima swallows hard, silently nodding. She doesn’t bother to press the issue any further, watching Misty hail a cab for herself and then disappear into the night. As soon as she’s alone again, her anger returns in a mighty burst.

 

She should probably just head home herself and forget that any of this shit ever happened.

 

Instead she storms back into the club, cutting through bodies as she makes a beeline to the bar where Delphine is still perched. The blonde notices her shoving her way through the crowded club and watches with a curious expression, waiting for Cosima to reach her.

 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Cosima spits, eyes flickering with the intensity of the flames behind them.

 

“Nothing,” Delphine shrugs, rather nonchalant in the face of Cosima’s wrath. Her eyes quickly scan the area, clearly searching for something. “Where’s your friend?”

 

Cosima’s hands ball into fists. She’s never been a violent person but right now, she’s tempted to slap that drink right out of Delphine’s hand and give her a firm shove. She nearly snarls as she watches the French woman pluck a lime from her glass and take a bite of the fruit, never breaking eye contact.

 

“She took off because _you_ showed up,” Cosima hisses.

 

She doesn’t know _why_ she expects Delphine to care, so she shouldn’t be surprised when she’s met with yet another cocky smirk and the ghost of a chuckle.

 

“Is that _funny_ to you?”

 

She’s nearly quaking in anger.

 

“Are you some sort of sadist—is that it? Do you take pleasure in torturing me?” 

 

She’s shouting now and even though the music is blaring loudly, Delphine seems to hear her with perfect clarity. The blonde’s expression morphs once more and Delphine loses all semblance of humour, her smile quickly downturning when she realizes exCRLT how upset her ex-girlfriend is.

 

“Are you writing a fucking book or something?” Cosima snaps. “How Many Ways Can I Ruin Cosima’s Life: A Novel by Delphine Cormier.” 

 

Her lower lip trembling, Cosima searches Delphine’s face for some sort of answer. Her words seem to twist at something settled deep in the French woman’s gut. Delphine’s frown grows more pronounced, though she says nothing.

 

“Whatever. I don’t need this bullshit.”

 

Cosima quickly turns around, afraid that she’ll burst into tears if she lingers just a second longer. She can stand and scream at Delphine until she’s blue in the face and a sobbing mess of tears but it won’t make any difference at all. She had thought coming in here to give Delphine a piece of her mind would make her feel better, but instead she just feelings like throwing up and so she leaves just as fast as she appeared, stalking away.

 

“Cosima! Cosima, wait!”

 

The words are distorted, as if they’re being screamed underwater. She focuses on controlling her breathing, willing her angry tears back down below. Her eyes focus on the door, on the light at the end of the tunnel, but a hand on her arm prevents her from reaching her escape.

 

_“What?”_ she snaps, turning around to face Delphine. “What do you want, Delphine? Haven’t you taken enough?”

 

Delphine’s eyes are wide and swimming—the same as before, back in the alley behind Bobby’s the last time they met. She realizes that _this_ is the real Delphine, no more of that bullshit bravado the blonde came waltzing in with, sipping on a gin and tonic. She should feel satisfied at finally getting a real response, but instead she’s too exhausted to do anything with it.

 

“I told you. I just want to talk,” Delphine says rather meekly.

 

Cosima tugs her arm back.

 

“And I already told you—I don’t wanna talk to you!” she shouts. “I don’t even wanna look at you right now!”

 

Now _she’s_ the one out for blood, trying her hardest to cut away at Delphine’s exterior with any weapon she can get her hands on. Delphine’s eyes narrow, her lips quiver slightly before she draws them into a straight line.

 

“Fine. Keep running,” she mutters.

 

Cosima stands completely dumbfounded as Delphine flips the script, turning her back and rushing away. She hates herself for it, but as soon as she is able to shake off the initial shock, Cosima chases after the blonde. Delphine disappears into the women’s bathroom and Cosima quickly works her way through the crowd, pushing the bathroom door open with all the force in her body.

 

“I’m not the one who ran away!” Cosima shouts, announcing her presence.

 

Delphine—examining herself in the mirror—immediately whips around to acknowledge the outburst, clearly surprised. The three other women in the bathroom also seem caught off guard by the sudden commotion and they all look to the tiny brunette swept up in her fury.

 

“I’ve spent the last five years sitting still— _you’re_ the one who ran!”

 

Sensing the mounting tension, the three strangers exchange looks before quickly evacuating, leaving Cosima and Delphine alone to work through their ever-growing list of issues. Cosima’s chest is heaving as she closes in on her ex, her eyes dark and jaw clenched. Her proximity forces Delphine backwards until she’s pressed against the counter with nowhere to run. The blonde says nothing at first, her eyes scanning Cosima, searching her closely.

 

“I’m here now,” she offers, her voice soft.

 

Cosima’s eyes flutter.

 

It’s not the response she was expecting and she hardly knows what to do with it. Her breathing heavy, the air between them nearly burning, her eyes lock with Delphine’s and she notices that hazel pools are torn between keeping her gaze and inspecting her mouth. Her own eyes fall into the same trap, shifting between that dark and unnameable look in Delphine’s eyes and the softness of her lips, the way her tongue darts out to quickly wet them. 

 

Before she has time to even process what’s happening, Delphine steps forward, throwing all of her weight into a kiss that Cosima just can’t bring herself to deny.

 

She sinks.

 

For just a moment, she allows herself to dip beneath the surface; the world goes completely quiet, her body seems to roll with the tide and before she knows it, her lungs are screaming for oxygen. She reluctantly tears her lips away from Delphine’s, though she doesn’t step out of the embrace. 

 

“What are you doing?” she asks.

 

Her voice is hoarse, her eyes clamped shut; she’s afraid that she’ll open them again and be faced with reality— afraid she’ll open them again and find that she isn’t. Her heart is restless, slamming painfully in her chest, unable to settle on what is it she actually wants. Delphine pauses very briefly to read her expression and when she isn’t met by a slap or look of utter contempt, she presses onward.

 

“You know what I’m doing,” she whispers, leaning in closer until her lips are at Cosima’s ear.

 

Cosima shivers.

 

“I want you,” Delphine confesses with a deep sigh, her breath tickling Cosima’s ear. “Even after all these years, I still think of you.”

 

The tiniest groan escapes from Cosima’s lips and her eyes nearly roll back in her head when she feels Delphine’s nose brush against the length of her neck, nuzzling her softly. When the blonde presses a kiss to that secret spot just below her ear, her entire body convulses and her hands shoot into motion, grabbing Delphine’s arms to halt her ministrations.

 

“Don’t,” Cosima warns, though her tone lacks any real threat.

 

This is wrong.

 

As much as she wants it to be right, she knows she’ll hate herself more than ever if she allows herself to fall into yet another trap. If she’s ever going to find any sort of closure with Delphine, she’s going to have to be able to stand her ground and not buckle at every breathy whisper, at every hazel glint directed her way. She takes a deep breath, slowly pushing Delphine away from her to create more distance. She’s surprised, but Delphine doesn’t stop her. Instead she watches with a furrowed brow, chewing on her lower lip as she tries to read Cosima’s expression. 

 

“Why not?” Delphine asks, head cocked in curiosity.

 

“You know why.”

 

She licks her lips, the taste of Delphine still lingering on them. It tastes just as fucking good as she remembers and she wonders what else tastes the same, if Delphine still makes the same noises, if her body still moves the same way. Her mind begins to wander and she hates herself for her curiosity—hates even more that Delphine seems to be able to read her thoughts, a cat-like grin spreading across her face. 

 

She should run.

 

She should turn around and leave while she has the chance.

 

Instead her feet remain fixed, her breathing unsteady as Delphine closes in again.

 

“You’ve been locked up a long time, _cherie,_ ” she says, her fingers toying with one of the straps of Cosima’s dress. _“_ You must have been… _lonely.”_

 

She presses a kiss to the corner of Cosima’s mouth and right as the brunette is about the buckle, she somehow finds her strength.

 

“Not really,” she manages. “You know me—I make friends easily.”

 

Delphine freezes.

 

“Friends?”

 

There’s panic in her voice and in that moment, Cosima feels a jolt of victory. It may not be as epic as she imagined it, but knowing that she’s managed to somehow chip Delphine’s armour is good enough for her right now. 

 

“Yeah,” she answers, riding on her wind. “And you see, _she_ was actually there for me when I needed her.”

 

She tries her best to hide it, but Delphine’s face contorts in an almost painful manner at Cosima’s revelation—another chip in the armour. Cosima wants to smile— _wants_ to want to rub salt in the wound—but she somehow can’t bring herself to do it. 

 

Instead she just sighs.

 

She turns away from Delphine, making a move for the door.

 

“Can she do the things that I can do?”

 

Cosima stops immediately, her arm outstretched and trapped in mid-air as she reaches for the door. She slowly lowers it, her lashes fluttering before sliding shut.

 

She _knows_ that tone.

 

She should be running for cover now, but instead her heart begins to beat in double time again. She knows if she turns around, she’ll be met with dark eyes that swallow her whole and so in her last move of resistance, she keeps her eyes clamped shut and remains completely still—unable to move forward and push through the door to freedom but unable to turn back and slip into that dangerous, delicious familiarity that she curses herself for craving.

 

“Can she make you scream like I do?” 

 

She feels the words against her ear and down in her core, Delphine slinking up behind her and pressing wet kisses to the back of her neck. She shivers quite noticeably and feels her knees begin to shake when she’s steadied by Delphine’s warm grip as she slides her arms around from behind, hands slowly creeping upward until they’re settled right beneath her breasts.

 

“Can she make you get on your knees like a good little girl?”

 

She can hear the smirk spreading across Delphine’s lips, nearly taste the sex dripping from her voice. She knows she’s trapped—that there’s no sense in fighting anymore—so she expels a long sigh and allows her body to slowly melt into the woman’s touch. 

 

It’s not as scary as she thought.

 

Soft but certain hands caress her breasts, fondling her through her dress and she moans, her hands sliding up to cover Delphine’s and passively guide them. She had been so terrified of this moment, but she feels a strange sense of relief at finally having Delphine’s hands on her again. She whimpers the blonde’s name, her head lulling back to rest on Delphine’s shoulder.

 

“Tell me to stop,” Delphine says, her words both a dare and an opening. “Say it and I will.”

 

Cosima considers it for a moment.

 

She wishes she could say it, but they both know she can’t. Instead she tilts her head to the side, eyes still clamped shut and lips ghosting over Delphine’s.

 

“Tell me you don’t want me,” Delphine breathes against them.

 

Cosima’s lips part, she opens her mouth, but nothing follows.

 

“I… I…”

 

Delphine twists Cosima in her arms, spinning her around so they’re face-to-face again. Her lips are on Cosima’s instantly, her tongue demanding yet pliant as it slips into Cosima’s mouth and she forces the smaller girl back into the counter. Cosima responds in kind, one hand cupping Delphine’s face and the other burying itself in her golden curls, allowing her to deepen the kiss.

 

“I forgot how soft you are—how _good_ this is,” Delphine tells her, gently nipping at her lower lip.

 

Cosima’s body instinctively reacts when Delphine reaches for the backs of her thighs, urging her to hop up onto the counter. She obliges, watching Delphine through dilated pupils as the blonde hikes her dress up high enough for her to spread her legs, for Delphine to press herself between them. Delphine’s lips are at her throat, sucking and biting. Her hands trace nonsensical patterns on the insides of Cosima’s thighs, slowly torturing her.

 

_“Fuck,”_ Cosima groans, throwing her head back the second Delphine’s fingers make contact with her now-embarrassingly damp panties.

 

“You’re so wet for me,” Delphine remarks, both strangled and delighted.

 

As cocky as Delphine plays, they’re both equally as surprised to find how their bodies react to each other after all this time; there’s no guarantee that a fire that once raged will burn just as strong the second time around, but the blonde is certain in her gut that she's been right this entire time.

 

“I knew it—I knew you still wanted me,” she proclaims, tugging Cosima’s underwear down her legs. “You do, don’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Cosima eagerly nods, pulling Delphine’s face back up to meet hers in a kiss.

 

She doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. 

 

All she wants is to feel Delphine inside of her again and she’ll figure out the rest later. 

 

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Delphine tells her, voice hurried and desperate as she swipes her thumb across Cosima’s swollen clit, making her cry out and buck into the blonde’s hand.

 

Delphine smiles, watching the waves of pleasure crash against Cosima’s face. She continues to work the brunette slowly, torturously, until Cosima is nearly begging for more; she grabs Delphine’s wrist, squeezing as hard as she can to get her point across. Finally, Delphine slides two fingers inside and they both sigh deeply, sated. 

 

“Hard,” Cosima moans, her head smashing back against the bathroom mirror.

 

Delphine nods, picking up the pace until her arm is burning from exertion. She can’t bring herself to care though; Cosima is here, in her arms, just like old times. She feels more powerful and sure than she has in years and when she presses her forehead to Cosima’s—when she hears those needy, delicate sounds being expelled from her lungs in steady puffs—she knows that she’s in this all over again.

 

It isn’t long before Cosima is crying out, clenching tightly around Delphine’s fingers while her body jerks erratically against the force of her orgasm. She rides it out to completion, Delphine whispering French affirmations in her ear just as she always used to, coaxing Cosima up and then back down again. As soon as she’s finished, Delphine wipes the sweat from Cosima’s brow, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

 

When Cosima opens her eyes again, met by such resounding tenderness, she instantly recognizes her mistake. Her skin—flush and hot to the touch just mere moments ago—now feels cold and clammy. Her mouth feels dry. Delphine offers her a small smile but she finds herself unable to return it. Instead she places a hand on Delphine’s chest, gently pushing her away so she can slide down from the counter and begin straightening herself out. She pulls her dress back down her thighs, frantically searching the bathroom for her discarded underwear.

 

“What? What is it?” Delphine presses, quickly sensing that something is amiss. 

 

Cosima swallows the lump in her throat. 

 

“This… this doesn’t change anything,” she utters.

 

Delphine frowns. 

 

Brow furrowed and arms folded across her chest, she cocks her head and inspects Cosima closely.

 

“Doesn’t it?”

 

Cosima offers her a look of warning.  


“Fine,” Delphine relents, unimpressed but unwilling to press the issue at the moment.

 

Cosima sighs, deciding to abandon her futile search for her underwear. She turns to inspect herself in the mirror, making sure her weakness isn’t written all over her face. What if she runs into Sarah and Felix? She needs to pull herself together, needs to get out of this fucking bathroom. What was she thinking following Delphine in here in the first place? Every single time she’s ever followed the blonde into a bathroom has always ended the same, why was she stupid enough to believe she’d be strong enough to break the cycle now? Maybe things between them really haven’t changed so much and she's unsure if this should terrify her or come as some sort of relief.

 

“Come home with me tonight.”

 

She says it so casually, as if it’s a foregone conclusion. Cosima’s eyes wander in the mirror to steal a glimpse of the woman standing behind her; she watches Delphine watch her, try to slowly work her way inside with just a few words. Five years and the bitter taste of betrayal should have been enough to build some sort of immunity to that infectious look in her eyes, to the poisonous lilt in her voice, but she hesitates for much longer than she should considering she already has her answer.

 

“I can’t,” Cosima whispers.

 

She’s unable to make eye contact, averting her gaze in the mirror. She can hear Delphine’s frustration rather than see it, can feel the blonde reach out for her. A hand makes contact with her shoulder, gently spinning her around until she’s facing Delphine.

 

“Come on, Cosima. I just want to talk,” she pleads.

 

Cosima looks up, searching her expression. 

 

“When have you ever just wanted to talk?” she challenges.

 

It’s a pretty picture, but one she can’t bring herself to trust. For as long as they’ve known each other, words have always seemed… _secondary_. They speak in action—or inaction. Words just never seemed adequate for what existed between them. How could they possibly put a name to it?

 

“I mean it,” Delphine tries to convince her. “We don’t have to go back my place. We could go somewhere else if you want. I don’t care.”

 

There’s a sincerity to the blonde’s voice, one Cosima wants so badly to believe. She inhales sharply as if suddenly stung, their eyes locked. 

 

“I know we can work this out. I’ll do whatever it takes,” Delphine promises her. “I’ll make everything right.”

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

 

_“Wow. That’s pretty brutal.”_

 

_Cosima laughs, nodding along in agreement._

 

_“I guess.”_

 

_She isn’t sure what’s compelled her to spill her guts to a woman she barely knows, but Shay’s been the most welcoming person she’s seen in weeks. She hadn’t even meant to divulge any of the drama surrounding her love life, but Shay has the kind of eyes that manage to pry into your soul whether you want them to or not. Before long, their casual conversation had veered down the long, dark path of Delphine Cormier and all the ways the woman has managed to fuck her up without even lifting a finger._

 

_She doesn’t mind it horribly._

 

_It sort of helps to talk about it._

 

_At least she doesn’t feel like she’s making it all up in her head, like she’s some sort of delusional nutcase who’s conjured up a relationship with a woman who never existed in the first place._

 

_“She could still come around, right?” she dares to ask, desperately looking over to the blonde sitting next to her for an answer._

 

_Shay is silent for a moment, considering._

 

_“It’s possible.”_

 

_Cosima nods, though she doesn’t fully accept Shay’s answer. She can tell by the look in her eyes that Shay is trying to help, trying to tell her what she thinks she needs to hear. She isn’t sure if she should be upset by the dishonesty or touched by the level of concern displayed._

 

_“God, I feel like such an idiot,” Cosima sighs, her head dropping into her lap. “I know she’s not coming, but she_ **_has_ ** _to, you know? How could she not?”_

 

_Shay slowly slides a hand across her curved back, rubbing in tight circles in a bid to soothe a despairing Cosima._

 

_“It’s good to have something to hold on to. It helps,” she offers._

 

_Cosima shakes her head, lifting it once more to face the blonde properly._

 

_“I don’t know what good holding on to a lie can really be,” she confesses._

 

_“You don’t know it’s a lie,” Shay quickly counters._

 

_Her hand migrates from Cosima’s back to her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. The corners of Cosima’s lip twitch upward at the gesture, but she can’t bring herself to smile fully with her heart weighing her down._

 

_“Yeah, but I don’t know that it’s real anymore, either,” she finally admits. “That may as well make it a lie.”_

 

_She still can’t wrap her head around it—how you can share so much with a person, go through so much shit, and then just cut them loose like some sort of minor inconvenience. Is that all her relationship with Delphine has ever been—surface level? Has she been deluding herself all this time?_

 

_No._

 

_It’s not a lie._

 

_It’s just not possible._

 

_Then where did everything go wrong? At what point did everything shift? Was she just too stupid or lovestruck to notice it? Thinking back on it now, she can’t seem to pinpoint an exact moment in time._

 

_“Guess that’s what I get,” she mutters more to herself than to Shay._

_  
Shay cocks her head._

 

_“For what?” she asks, catching Cosima’s comment._

 

_“Trusting a woman I barely know.”_

 

_Shay shakes her head, shifting in her seat so that she’s facing Cosima more fully._

 

_“We’re all strangers at some point,” she argues. “Where would anyone be if we didn’t take our chances?”_

 

_“I don’t know. Maybe not in prison?” Cosima shrugs._

 

_Shay sighs._

 

_“You’ve got to stop beating yourself up about this,” she tries to tell a defeated Cosima. “You made a mistake. You’re paying for it. What more is there to say?”_

 

_“Apparently nothing, according to my absentee girlfriend—_ **_ex_ ** _-girlfriend?” Cosima quips. “Fuck. I don’t even know anymore.”_

 

_She thinks this razor’s edge of uncertainty is far worse than any prison the government can cage her up in. Are things with Delphine truly over? With her past girlfriends she saw the end coming a mile away was able to wrap her head around it quite easily; there was no point of contestation, no ambiguity involved. She understands that some relationships fizzle out, that some can end abruptly, but this is something entirely different. As far as she knows, she entered into prison with a girlfriend and somewhere down the line—without word or warning—she had lost her._

 

_“You know, she could at least have the decency to break up with me. Maybe give me some peace of mind,” Cosima muses._

 

_Last she checked, a breakup involved two people._

 

_“So… why don’t you break up with her?” Shay suggests._

 

_Cosima furrows her brow._

 

_“It’s kind of hard to have a breakup when one party is… god know’s where.”_

 

_Delphine could be halfway across the world at this moment for all she knows and even if she’s not, even if she is still in town, Cosima has no real way of reaching her; Delphine’s cell number has been disconnected, all other channels of communication completely closed. How is she supposed to get a message to the duplicitous blonde if all her calls fall dead, if all her letters are returned to her?_

 

_“This isn’t about Delphine. This is about_ **_you,_ ** _” Shay says. “She doesn’t have to be here for you to break her off.”_

 

_Cosima frowns._

 

_“Yeah? And how’s that?”_

 

_“If you keep leaving this all up to Delphine, you’ll spend your whole life dangling from her finger. She’s never going to give you what you need, Cosima. You just have to take it for yourself—take what you need to move on.”_

 

_Cosima nods._

 

_She knows that Shay’s right. Every word slipping out of her mouth makes too much sense, but even still,_ **_how_ ** _is she supposed to go about it? She knows she needs to cut Delphine out before her poison spreads even further and cauterize that wound before she bleeds out, but how? And with what? It’s much easier said than done._

 

_Cosima sighs._

 

_“I don’t even know how to begin to—”_

 

_Her train of thought is abruptly halted by Shay’s lips against her own._

 

_The kiss is gentle, yet firm. She’s completely surprised at first and it takes her a second to tune in. As soon as she does, her eyes slide shut and she allows herself to get lost in the kiss._

 

_It’s nice._

 

_For a moment, she forgets all about Delphine._

 


	7. 7

She wakes gently, her mind and body slowly pulled from her slumber by light pouring through the balcony window. A beam of sun hits her eyes and she groans, rolling from her stomach onto her back, smiling contently.

 

She hasn’t slept this well in years.

 

The cot in her cell had been awful and Tony’s couch isn’t much better. She’s used to waking several times throughout the night and when she does finally decide to pull herself out of bed, she almost always has a crick in her neck.

 

Not today.

 

The comforter she’s wrapped in is soft and fluffy, as are the pillows and the mattress, and the arm strung across her torso is—

 

“Fuck!”

 

She shoots up, memories of last night quickly flooding into her mind. Delphine lay at her side, a soft smile on her features as she dozes peacefully in her usual position, on her usual side of the bed. Cosima’s heart begins to slam in her chest, panic finally settling in. How is she supposed to explain _this?_ How is she supposed to bounce back from it? She hadn’t meant to stumble home with Delphine—certainly hadn’t meant to fall into bed for another round with her—but here she is, bare and exposed and in her ex-girlfriend’s bed like no time has passed between them.

 

It doesn’t look like it has.

 

Her eyes scan the room, taking in her surroundings more completely. It had been dark last night, she had been more focused on Delphine than the apartment, but she notices now that Delphine’s condo looks almost exactly the same as it did when they were dating. She can’t pick out any discernible differences and she wonders if that’s good or bad. Either way, her focus returns to the sleeping blonde and she wonders how she should proceed.

 

Does she wake Delphine?

 

Does she try to slip out quietly?

 

As she ponders the thought, her feet begin to move on autopilot; they pull her from the comfort of Delphine’s bed and carry her to the kitchen. She reaches into a familiar cupboard, grabs a familiar glass, swings open the familiar door to the refrigerator and pours herself a glass of filtered water. It isn’t until she's downed nearly the whole glass and her thirst is quenched that she realizes her folly.

 

“Fuck!”

 

She sets the glass down on the counter.

 

How can she stand here like she has a thousand times before, drinking water so casually as she did every morning when she’d stay over? She knows this is wrong, but her body hasn’t caught up with what her brain already knows. 

 

It’s all muscle memory.

 

She moves through this space habitually. They even fuck habitually. Perhaps that’s how she was able to topple into bed with the French woman so easily in the first place; even if she did just want to accept Delphine’s invitation and simply talk, as soon as she stepped through that door, their bodies fell back into old patterns before either of them could process what was truly happening.

 

“Fuck,” she groans.

 

She needs to get out of here. So long as she stays here, she’ll never be able to think straight. She wanders around the apartment, searching for her dress. She finds it discarded in the living room near the sofa.

 

“Where the fuck are my—?”

 

Somewhere in the bathroom of the club, she suddenly remembers. 

 

She forgets about her underwear, heads back into the bedroom to find another piece of the puzzle—her bra. She moves as stealthily as possible so as not to disturb the sleeping woman; she doesn’t trust herself to stay in control if they’re both conscious in this far-too-familiar space. She knows the chance of falling into bed again is far too real, so she dresses in silence, turning back to steal wistful looks at the sleeping blonde every so often. 

 

Now fully-dressed, she attempts to smooth her dress out to hide the evidence of last night’s endeavours, but her phone begins to ring loudly and she feels her panic bubble to the surface yet again as she attempts to locate it. She races over to the nightstand and quickly snatches it, watching Delphine mumble something incoherent and roll over in her sleep.

 

She takes the phone across the bedroom and steps into the ensuite bathroom, closing the door behind her.

 

“Fucking finally!” Sarah exclaims the second she answers the call “I’ve been calling you all morning, yeah? Called you four times last night. Was worried you got nabbed or something.”

 

She checks her phone to see that Sarah did, in fact, call her numerous times. She knows without even looking at the time stamps that she missed those calls because she was in bed with Delphine at the time, probably with her face buried between her ex-girlfriend’s legs.

 

“No, I-I’m fine,” she stammers, trying to regain her bearings. 

 

She inspects herself in the mirror. 

 

She can’t deny how pathetic she looks, panic written in her eyes and all over her face. Her makeup is smudged, her neck marred with constellations of bright purple teethmarks. Sarah begins to laugh and it’s as if she can see through her phone, observing Cosima in her current state.

 

“What? What’s so funny?” Cosima probes.

 

“Looks like I owe Fee twenty bucks.”

 

“Huh?”

 

She tilts her head, inspecting the hickeys more closely in the mirror and frowning.

 

“He said you probably went home with that girl from the bar. I said you didn’t have it in you.”

 

“What?”

 

What girl? 

 

She tries to sort through the haze of last night until she finally settles on Misty. She had completely forgotten about her until now, about the number she has saved in her phone that she’ll most likely never call.

 

“So, how was she?”

 

Her head drops.

 

Is she supposed to lie to Sarah—her best friend? She’s a terrible liar. But she can’t really tell her the truth either, otherwise her thieving friend will jump down her throat and tear into her with no mercy or regard.

 

“Nothing happened, Sarah,” she sighs.

 

Sarah laughs again.

 

“Oh, come on. I _know_ you got laid. I can hear it in your voice, Cos.”

 

Well, if there’s no denying it…

 

“Fine. Yes. I did,” she says lowly, trying to keep their conversation quiet so that she won’t rouse Delphine from slumber.

 

“Why are you whispering?” Sarah asks. “Are you—oh shit, you’re still there, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Cosima answers, not even trying to hide her annoyance. “Now if you don’t mind…”

 

“No worries. I won’t keep you. Get back to shagging.”

 

She nearly chokes on Sarah’s words.

 

“No!” she exclaims, forgetting about all about Delphine for a split second. “No more shagging!”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

She hears a noise from the bedroom and she wonders if Delphine is awake now, if the jig is up. Her panic rises yet again and she frantically searches around the bathroom for some sort of escape.

 

“I have to get out of here,” she says.

 

“Alright. You want me to come and get you?” Sarah offers.

 

“No, no, no!” she whispers harshly. “I’ll… I’ll come to you.”

 

“Fine. Wanna meet at the coffee house in an hour? I want breakfast and details.”

 

“Okay. Sure. See you soon.”

 

She quickly hangs up, taking a moment to compose herself. She takes a deep breath before making her way back out into the bedroom. Sure enough, Delphine is awake; she lay sprawled in bed like a cat beneath the sun’s rays, her face dewy and smile warm.

 

“Mmmm,” she moans, stretching her arms even higher until her spine is drawn taut and her breasts are jutting out freely for Cosima to admire. “Good morning.”

 

Cosima stops dead in her tracks, her eyes uncertain of where to settle—though she knows where they _want_ to settle.

 

“Come back to bed. I’ll make us breakfast,” Delphine purrs.

 

Cosima finally averts her eyes, finding the floor.

 

“I have to go. I have plans,” she answers.

 

“This early?” Delphine challenges.

 

“It’s almost noon.”

 

Delphine sits up, reaching over to the night stand on her side of the bed to grab her cell phone. She takes note of the time.

 

“It is,” she remarks. “I guess the night escaped us.”

 

Cosima’s eyes flutter at the comment and Delphine’s smile grows even wider, her words having their intended effect.

 

“Cancel. Stay in bed with me,” she suggests. “We can have that talk.”

 

“No, we can’t.”

 

Delphine shifts, her smile immediately disappearing. She inspects Cosima a little more closely from a safe distance.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Cosima doesn’t answer, merely searches around the room for her boots.

 

“Are you still upset with me?” Delphine asks, head cocked to the side.

 

“I’m… I’m not anything,” Cosima shrugs.

 

She locates one of her boots and bends over to collect it, though she sees no sign of its mate. She tries to ignore Delphine and her questions as she continues her search, but Delphine swings her legs over the edge of the bed and approaches her.

 

“ _You_ came home with _me_ last night. You didn’t have to, but you did,” she says matter-of-factly, emphasizing Cosima’s role in all of this. “And _I_ wanted to talk— _you_ were the one who pulled me into bed… not that I’m complaining.”

 

Cosima sighs, rubbing the back of her neck.

 

“I had a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again,” she promises.

 

Delphine’s frown becomes more pronounced. Gone is the dewiness of her blissful sleep, replaced by a sour stomach.

 

“Don’t I get a say in any of this?”

 

“No,” Cosima deadpans.

 

Delphine folds her arms over her chest, both an angry and defensive gesture. She certainly hadn’t expected the morning to unfold in such a way and she follows Cosima back out into the living room as the brunette finally locates her other boot.

 

“What am I to you?” she asks the shorter woman.

 

Cosima stops what she’s doing and looks Delphine dead in the eye.

 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

 

Delphine shakes her head.

 

“Don’t do this. Don’t be stubborn,” she warns.

 

She can’t go through this again. 

 

She’s done with the childish games, with Cosima’s pride and petulance. She knows the ex-con is wounded deeply—that she’s responsible for those wounds—but Cosima was always guarded and dismissive when she felt her pride was in jeopardy. Even before everything fell apart, she remembers Cosima being unable to have an actual argument about much of anything when it came to their relationship; they didn’t argue often, but every time they did, Cosima would shout and storm off (or demand that she leave) and then avoid Delphine and the problem altogether until Delphine ultimately bent to her will and appeased her. Cosima was years ahead of her peers on an intellectual level, but struck Delphine even way back then as someone who was emotionally stunted.

 

Perhaps that’s why they meshed so well together.

 

“You know what you are to me,” Delphine tells her. “I think I’ve made that clear.”

 

“You know what? You really haven’t.”

 

Cosima jams her feet into her boots, in a hurry to put as much distance between them as possible.

 

“The only thing you’ve made clear is that the fucking whiplash you’re giving me isn’t going to go away anytime soon.”

 

She knows enough by now to know that Delphine’s words and actions don’t always line up. In fact, they almost never do and the constant back and forth—the constant state of trying to keep track of all of it—has her twisted and contorted in such a way that she can barely breathe anymore.

 

“Then stay,” Delphine suggests. “Let’s talk about it.”

 

Cosima sighs, averting her gaze again.

 

“I have to go.”

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

Brunch with Sarah goes better than expected. 

 

She had been nervous that Sarah would be able to deduce that she had gone home with Delphine, that she would somehow be able to smell her on her skin, but then Sarah never even saw Delphine at the club and had no reason to suspect any sort of involvement at all. The punk was quick to slide off her back and let her carry on with her business as she devoured a stack of pancakes to nurse the guilt she felt in the pit of her stomach that she tried to play off as a hangover.

 

She had dragged herself back to her cousin’s house and had to deal with a prying Tony as she emerged from the shower with hickeys and claw marks down her back. She was able to shrug him off, as well, and before he could ask too many questions she ventured off to the bar to work her next shift.

 

She mindlessly fills two pint glasses and slides them across the bar to the two waiting men, her thoughts far away with Delphine. 

 

Maybe she _is_ being unfair.

 

_No._

 

She doesn’t owe Delphine a goddamn thing. She doesn’t _have_ to give her any sort of explanation and she certainly doesn’t have to wait for one herself… but does that mean she doesn’t want one? 

 

Forget about Delphine—she’s giving _herself_ whiplash. 

 

One minute she thinks she wants to sit and actually have their long overdue conversation, but then the next she comes to the conclusion that anything Delphine says is irrelevant, that there aren’t any words that can justify her actions or fix what’s happened between them. 

 

A part of her _wants_ a solution to her problem, but then a much larger part—the part that seems to win out—is scared of what that solution might look like. Does it mean a reconciliation? Or a definite end to whatever they had or might have now? 

 

What does she _want_ it to mean? 

 

Her indecisiveness terrifies her, cripples her; she just doesn’t want to be made a fool again.

 

“Gin and tonic—double lime.”

 

She raises her eyes from the bar and freezes when she sees Delphine standing before her, the blonde watching her with a curious expression. She’s trapped, unable to run for cover or fully engage. Instead her eyes dart around the bar to locate Bobby and the second the other woman notices what’s going, she comes hurrying over.

 

“Do you really gotta do this?” Bobby asks, clearly exasperated.

 

Delphine shrugs.

 

“I’m not doing anything.”

 

“You know, I may be her boss, but I’m not gonna make her serve you—that’s just an asshole move.”

 

The second the words leave Bobby’s mouth and Cosima has the confirmation she needs, she storms away and retreats behind the safety of a swinging door marked “employees only.” Delphine has half a mind to follow after her but Bobby stops her, reaching out to gently grab her by the arm and hold her in place.

 

“You’re gonna make this way worse, you know.”

 

“What am I supposed to do? She refuses to talk to me.”

 

Bobby sighs, getting to work on Delphine’s drink.

 

“You cut her deep. This is gonna take a lot of time and a lot more finesse,” Bobby tells her. “You can’t keep playing your same bullshit games—I thought you figured that out last night?”

 

She had caught Delphine with her guard down and what she found had surprised her; not the villain Sarah had spent years making her out to be or the temptress she remembers always pulling Cosima away at every opportunity, but a simple woman—flawed and vulnerable and good-intentioned despite the mess which seemed to cling to her like a dark shroud.

 

“It’s… it’s hard,” Delphine admits. “I want things to be different—I really do—but we just… we fall back into each other—into this pattern. It’s so hard to shake it off.”

 

Delphine stutters and shakes as she tries to explain it—this feeling she’s spent the last five years trying to put a name to. She’s no closer to a title, but her vulnerability shines through again in a rare moment.

 

“Wait a fucking second,” Bobby begins, finishing the drink and placing two limes along the rim of the glass. “Did… did you two hook up last night?”

 

Delphine answers by reaching across the bar, grabbing her drink and taking a large swig.

 

“Holy shit,” Bobby expels. “You two really are a fucking disaster.”

 

She disappears a moment later, leaving Delphine alone with her drink. The blonde’s eyes remain fixed on the door marked “employee’s only” and a few minutes later Cosima reemerges with a different air about her.

 

“I’m on my break,” she mutters.

 

Delphine blinks in confusion and when Cosima gestures for the blonde to follow her, she trails behind without another word. She’s led out into the alley again—the same alley where they had their first conversation in years. Cosima reaches into her bra and retrieves a joint, promptly lighting up.

 

“Why are you here again?” she asks Delphine.

 

“Do I really need a reason to see you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Delphine sighs.

 

“I just want to talk.”

 

Cosima takes a deep breath, inhaling as much smoke as her lungs will allow. Despite the gesture, her body is tense. She narrows her eyes at the blonde, searching for some sort of ulterior motive that may be lurking beneath the surface.   


“Would you stop saying that? You sound like a broken record,” she mutters.

 

Delphine tries to keep her frustration under wraps though Cosima’s words gnaw at her and her lips twitch downward into a frown.

 

“Well, maybe if you talked to me, I’d stop asking.”

 

They both stop.

 

Cosima exhales a large cloud of smoke and immediately hits the joint again, hoping that the weed will relax her and give her the chill she needs to finally deal with Delphine—to have this conversation for the first and last time.

 

“Last night was a mistake.”

 

Delphine shakes her head in disagreement.

 

“It didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

 

“Well, it was,” Cosima reiterates. “And it can’t happen again.”

 

She exhales again, watching the smoke quickly travel upward towards the sky before dispersing into nothingness.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I—I—”

 

She draws her eyes back to her ex-girlfriend and finds herself lost in the furrow of Delphine’s brow—in the way she subtly (and not-so-subtly at the very same time) draws her lower lip between her front teeth, anxiously chewing out of habit. She can still feel the burn of those lips against her own, like a phantom itch on a limb that’s been long lost. She finds herself mirroring Delphine, her own teeth digging into her lower lip as she ponders her next words carefully.

 

“Because I don’t know how I feel about you and I’m not starting down this road again until I do.”

 

She takes another toke of her joint, her breath shaky this time as she inhales and holds until she feels the burn, waiting for Delphine to respond.

 

“Okay.”

 

She coughs, choking on a mixture of Delphine’s answer and the thick smoke.

 

“Okay?”

 

Delphine shrugs.

 

“That’s… fair.”

 

Cosima flicks the joint, unable to conceal her surprise.

 

“I don’t want to be with you if it’s not what you want, Cosima,” Delphine tries to explain.

 

Cosima feels her anger returning to her despite the high that’s beginning to travel through her body, tickling her extremities and lightly scratching at her brain. Her anger towards the blonde has always been pointed and it’s enough to keep her sober in the moment.

 

“Stop that,” she snaps.

 

Delphine cocks her head.

 

“Stop what?”

 

“Trying to be the good guy—spinning things around so _I’m_ the villain,” Cosima answers.

 

Delphine releases a weary sigh.

 

“That’s not what I’m doing at all.”

 

“You’re trying to make me feel like shit,” Cosima tells her. “It isn’t gonna work.”

 

Delphine runs a hand through her mane and tries her hardest to maintain the weak grip she’s managed to keep on her patience.

 

“I’m not _trying_ to do anything, Cosima,” she tells the cheeky brunette. “I’m just trying to understand what you want—what I can do to help.”

 

Her eyes seem to grow wider and deeper with her words like a puppy seeking praise and acceptance from its owner. Cosima knows the look well—has fallen victim to it in the past—and she plants her feet to stand her ground.

 

“Well, you could start by not looking at me like _that.”_

 

Delphine sighs again, more heavily this time.

 

“Fine. We don’t have to talk about our relationship.”

 

Cosima smirks, delighting in her small victory. She expects Delphine to go storming off since she can’t imagine they have anything further to discuss, but Delphine makes no attempt to move. Instead she resumes her usual pokerface, catching Cosima slightly off guard.

 

“Well, if there’s nothing else—”

 

“I didn’t say that,” Delphine interjects.

 

“What else is there for us to talk about?” Cosima counters. “The only thing we’ve ever had in common is each other.”

 

“That’s not true.”

 

Delphine pauses, taking a steadying breath as Cosima regards her carefully.

 

“I—I spoke to Leekie,” she says. “I met with him just before I came here, actually.”

 

The mere utterance of the man’s name is enough to make Cosima’s skin crawl and the tone of their conversation suddenly becomes much more strained, if possible.

 

“Why the hell do I care?”

 

“We… we were talking—about you,” Delphine answers. “About having you come back.”

 

Cosima freezes, completely stunned. Delphine’s words are sharp slap to her face and she’s reeling from the blow, trying to find her footing.

 

“ _Excuse_ me?”

 

As far as she’s concerned, Aldous Leekie is the one person whom may actually be more responsible than Delphine for her current predicament; the man had manipulated them both, but it often drove her crazy to see how easily he had managed to wrap her bright and brilliant girlfriend around his finger. 

 

Sometimes it’s easier for her to write Delphine as the villain, to ignore the fact that the blonde was clearly far younger and more impressionable than she ever realized. Back then, Delphine was always so large to her—the greatest force she had ever come across in her life. She was never able to understand how Delphine could so easily and so readily shrink herself down to fit beneath his dirty thumb and it infuriates her beyond all belief to see that even after five years, nothing has changed—Delphine is still willing to dim her own light so that Aldous-fucking-Leekie can shine a little brighter.

 

“Just hear me out, okay?”

 

“You’re out of your fucking mind!” Cosima spits.

 

Before she even has a chance to withdraw Delphine is reaching for her hand, holding her still.

 

“I’m on the verge, Cosima. On the verge of having _everything,”_ she says. “After this next job, everything will be different— _I’ll_ be the one calling all the shots.”

 

Delphine releases her and even though her brain screams for her to leave as soon as possible, Cosima remains still. Her eyes rake over the blonde again and she’s completely astounded by the woman standing before her; there’s a part of Delphine that is almost unrecognizable to her now and yet at the same time, there’s no doubt in her mind that woman in front of her is the same girl she met at that pool table so many years ago. She recognizes the fire—the ambition—but she’s not so sure what’s fuelling it anymore.

 

“What I’m trying to say is that I want you with me. I want you right there next to me, just like we always planned. Remember?” Delphine tries, her voice taking a softer tone.

 

She remembers.

 

She remembers all of the promises—that once they had enough, they’d take off running. They’d take what they need and start a new life for themselves—a life where they could be anyone or anything they wanted. 

 

Only it was _never_ enough.

 

As time went on, as Delphine became more entangled in Leekie’s business, she always seemed to need more. 

 

Things had never changed for Cosima, though. 

 

All she ever really needed was Delphine.

 

“Yeah. I remember,” she says, her voice low and almost defeated. “I remember you blowing that plan to shit when you left me to rot in prison.”

 

There was a time when she thought she knew exactly what their future would look like, but now she can’t even begin to imagine what a future for the two of them would look like or if such a thing is even possible.

 

“I’m here now. We’re here again—together,” Delphine utters, her dewy eyes searching Cosima’s and trying to reestablish a connection. “That has to mean something.”

 

The air seems the become thicker, the alleyway twists and bends and narrows until it’s closing in on the two of them. Cosima feels the lightheadedness settle in and she can’t be certain if it’s the joint or the deluge of everything Delphine has dumped on her. She tries to keep her head above the water but she’s caught in a riptide and finds it increasingly difficult stay afloat.

 

“It means that I’m a complete idiot.”

 

“Cosima, please—”

 

“I’m not interested in whatever bullshit lie you’re selling this time.”

 

“It’s not a lie!” Delphine cries out, her passion getting the better of her. “We can do this! When I’m in charge, I’ll be able to take care of you! I couldn’t before, but I won’t fuck it up again!”

 

Cosima scoffs 

 

“We can still have it all,” Delphine continues to push. “Just one last job—one more push and then it’s over for good—I swear!”

 

“One last job?” Cosima seethes. “Like I haven’t heard _that_ before.”

 

A flash of rage shoots through her and she’s pushing closer in an uncharacteristic display of aggression, invading Delphine’s space completely until her face is mere inches away.

 

“There _is_ no “one last job,” Delphine—not for you. You don’t know when to quit.”

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

_“St. Barts.”_

 

_Cosima arches a curious eyebrow as she stares at the slender blonde sprawled out in bed from over the rim of her glass, taking a few greedy gulps of water to remedy her morning dry mouth. Once she’s drained the contents completely, she sets the empty glass on the nightstand._

 

_“Hm?”_

 

_“How do you feel about St. Barts?” Delphine rephrases, sitting up straight so that she’s leaning back against the headboard, the comforter pooled at her waist._

 

_Cosima shrugs, her eyes admiring the sight of her topless girlfriend._

 

_“Never been.”_

 

_A smile stretches across Delphine’s face—one that grows even wider when Cosima finally rejoins her in bed, straddling the French girl’s lap._

 

_“We should go,” Delphine suggests, her fingers lazily tracing the jut of Cosima’s hipbone._

 

_“Like, on vacation?”_

 

_A vacation_ **_does_ ** _sound nice. She wouldn’t mind escaping the thick of winter or the copious amounts of schoolwork she has piling up; she’s usually better about staying on top of her studies, but Delphine has been a far-too-tempting distraction._

 

_“No,” Delphine shakes her head. “We should just…_ **_go_ ** _.”_

 

_Cosima cocks her head, inspecting her girlfriend more closely. Delphine’s gaze seems distant, as if her thoughts are already in St. Barts and waiting for them both to catch up. Even though she’s always been a mystery, Cosima can’t help but feel like there’s something especially elusive and wistful about Delphine’s words._

 

_“When?” she plays along._

 

_Delphine pauses for a second to consider._

 

_“Now.”_

 

_Cosima laughs._

 

_“We can’t go now.”_

 

_Delphine looks up at the brunette, her smile returning._

 

_“Why not?”_

 

_Cosima’s laughter only builds. There are moments when Delphine feels like the most complex individual she’s ever met, but then there are times when she’s ripe with simplicity—times when black is black and white is white, when she simply exists without all of her baggage or contradiction._

 

_“I have school,” Cosima offers her excuse._

 

_Delphine leans forward slightly, her lips dancing at the hollow of Cosima’s throat._

 

_“You don’t need school. Let’s go together—just you and me.”_

 

_Cosima shakes her head, her hands finding Delphine’s shoulders. She steadies herself, trying not to giggle as Delphine’s lips work their way from her throat to her jawline to that sensitive spot just below her ear._

 

_“I_ **_do_ ** _need school if I want to be a scientist someday,” she argues._

 

_Delphine nips gently at her lobe._

 

_“You don’t need any of that,” she presses._

 

_Cosima considers it._

 

_It would be so easy to just drop everything and run away with the very persuasive blonde, never looking back. It would be so easy to forget about all of her responsibilities, all of the expectations and just spend the rest of her days fucking on the beach. As tempting as the prospect is, she knows she’ll never forgive herself if she walks away from everything now without first knowing what she’s fully capable of; if she gave up school, her future career and all of her friends, she knows deep down that there’s a part of her that will not only resent herself for the decision, but Delphine as well._

 

_She doesn’t want that._

 

_She can’t imagine looking at Delphine with anything other than lust and adoration—she doesn’t want to wake up one day and find herself resenting her for stealing her future and trapping her in a co-dependent situation._

 

_She hopes they do make it to St. Barts one day—but on her own terms._

 

_“Maybe,” Cosima utters. “But I still want to do it—for me. It’s important.”_

 

_Delphine stops, pulling her mouth away from Cosima’s ear. She looks up at Cosima again, searching her gaze._

 

_“Okay,” she nods, smiling. “When you’re done school, then.”_

 

_Cosima beams_

 

_“You might be waiting a little while,” she retorts, leaning down to press her lips to Delphine’s._

 

_“That’s fine.”_

 

_They kiss slowly, methodically, losing themselves in the sensation of each other’s mouths. Cosima gently presses Delphine down into a pile of pillows, the two of them blissfully sinking into their detente._

 

_“You’re just looking for an excuse to get me into a bikini, aren’t you?” Cosima breaks their kiss to ask._

 

_“Maybe.”_

 

_They make love one more time before Cosima is able to pull herself away, determined to put in at least of few hours at the library this afternoon. She dresses leisurely, Delphine’s eyes following her as she makes her way across the room to retrieve her previously discarded clothes._

 

_“Why St. Barts?” Cosima breaks the silence, tugging her tights on over her legs._

 

_“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen,” Delphine answers._

 

_“So you’ve been?” she asks, glancing back at the European._

 

_“Yes,” Delphine nods. “Years ago, with my father.”_

 

_“Damn. That must be nice,” Cosima mutters, pulling her skirt on next. “The only vacations my dad ever took me on involved camping. I would have much preferred to chill on a beach in the Caribbean.”_

 

_“Well, at least your father made the effort to do something with you,” Delphine counters. “Every time he’s ever taken me somewhere, he’s ditched me at the resort to tend to his business.”_

 

_Cosima is easily able to detect the trace amounts of disdain in her girlfriend’s voice and her curiosity gets the better of her._

 

_“Yeah, but isn’t he paying for all of this?” she asks, gesturing to the luxurious condo. “Maybe he works so hard so he can spoil you.”_

 

_Delphine frowns._

 

_“That’s not it.”_

 

_Cosima stops dressing, intrigued by the shift in Delphine’s demeanour. In the months that they’ve been dating, Delphine has rarely mentioned her parents. The only thing she really knows for sure is that Delphine’s mother died of cancer when she was fourteen, and that her father is some sort of businessman who travels a lot for work, which has made him quite distant although very wealthy._

 

_“He feels guilty—that’s why he tries to compensate,” Delphine comments. “It used to make me so angry.”_

 

_Cosima could never relate to the strained family life Delphine or Sarah have; her mother and father were always loving and supportive. She was always an independent child and never relied on them for much, but she always knew they were present if she needed them. Even in adulthood, they don’t speak as often since she’s moved away from home, but she knows that if she picks up the phone and dials, there will always be someone to answer who’s more than happy to hear her voice._

 

_“If it bothers you so much, why take his money? You don’t have to.”_

 

_Delphine’s frown morphs into a scowl and instead of lashing out at Cosima in anger like one might expect, she becomes unsettlingly quiet, retreating into herself. Cosima quickly senses that she’s crossed a line and forgets about dressing altogether, slowly walking over to the bed to comfort her girlfriend._

 

_“Hey, come on. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off,” she says softly, crawling over the sheets and reaching for Delphine._

 

_“It doesn’t matter,” Delphine mutters, shrugging off Cosima’s touch. “Pretty soon, I’ll never need to rely on him again.”_

 

_She throws her feet over the edge of the bed, quickly rising and leaving Cosima behind in her messy sheets. She saunters over to her closet and snatches a silk kimono to wrap herself in._

 

_“Is that right?”_

 

_Delphine turns back around to face Cosima._

 

_“Why do you think I’m doing all of this?” she asks, a hint of exasperation to her voice. “Once I have real money of my own—real power—I’ll never have to deal with him again.”_

 

_Cosima frowns._

 

_Delphine, sensing her displeasure, shifts focus._

 

_“Once I have real power… I’ll be able to spoil_ **_you_ ** _.”_

 

_She comes back over to the bed, sliding in and wrapping her arms around Cosima in a tight hug. She nuzzles Cosima’s face, eliciting a smile and a blissful sigh from the smaller girl._

 

_“You know, you don’t need lots of money and power to break away from your dad,” Cosima mentions as Delphine rests her head upon her chest. “If he makes you so angry, just walk away.”_

 

_Delphine sighs._

 

_She reaches for Cosima’s hand, their fingers dancing together._

 

_“It’s not that simple,” the blonde remarks._

 

_“Sure it is.”_

 

_Cosima shifts, twisting her body so that they’re face-to-face._

 

_“You know… you’re stronger than you think.”_

 

_Delphine’s brow furrows._

 

_“Excuse me?” she counters, slightly offended but mostly confused._

 

_Cosima sits up._

 

_“I only mean—well, sometimes it just feels like you sort of—I don’t know—like, intentionally…shrink yourself?” she grapples at the words. “So that you can fit wherever you need to?”_

 

_“That’s called “adaptation,” Miss Evolutionist,” Delphine retorts, sitting up as well._

 

_“No, it isn’t.”_

 

_Delphine shoots her a quizzical glance and Cosima’s demeanour becomes heavier, more serious._

 

_“You shouldn’t have to make yourself smaller. You should never have to be…_ **_less_ ** _.”_

 

 


	8. 8

For the second time in as many nights, she wakes slowly and stretches languidly, her lips twisting into a smile when the crick in her neck she’s come to expect doesn’t come. Instead she feels well-rested and delights in the many benefits of a good night’s sleep. A slight shiver rolls down her spine when she twists ever-so-slightly and the blankets covering her tiny frame slide away from her, exposing her to the mild chill of the room.

 

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

 

The voice alarms her at first, completely unexpected. She shoots up in another bed that isn’t hers, squinting into the distance to make out the figure standing on the other side of the room. She breathes a noticeable sigh of relief when her brain finally pulls away from its haze of sleep and her memories return to her.

 

“Expecting someone else?”

 

She reaches across to the nightstand and retrieves her glasses, sight returning to her. When she turns back, the blonde is sauntering over towards the bed with a large glass full of a mysterious liquid in hand.

 

“I made this for you,” Shay says, handing the glass to Cosima.

 

Cosima hums in appreciation, taking a few gulps before passing it back.

 

“You like?”

 

“Yeah. It’s good,” she answers, watching Shay take a sip before setting the drink aside on the nightstand.

 

“You look like you slept well,” Shay remarks. “Prison really makes you realize how much you take the little things for granted—a decent night’s sleep, for one.”

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

They both laugh as the blonde straddles Cosima’s waist. Cosima’s smile stretches when Shay slowly forces her back onto the bed, her hands reaching for the brunette’s wrists and pinning them on either side of her head. She doesn’t even try to fight back, intrigued by what the other woman might have in store for her next; Shay has always been a playful lover, though their encounters in prison were almost always hurried and so they never had time to really luxuriate, to explore the boundaries of their relationship. 

 

Things are different now.

 

They had spent the entire evening re-learning each other’s bodies, even discovering new spots that would elicit tiny giggles or drawn out groans. Unlike her most recent encounter with Delphine, there was no desperation to their coupling, no hurried kisses or urgent hands; there was no sense of lost time to make up for, no great inferno fuelling them, no years of tension that had drawn them both taut as a bowstring until they eventually snapped.

 

“God, I missed you,” Cosima thinks out loud, closing her eyes and losing herself in the sensation of Shay’s lips on her neck.

 

“Really?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

After her shit storm of a conversation with Delphine, it had taken every ounce of self-control she possessed to make it through the rest of her shift without smashing every fucking bottle behind the bar. Bobby had offered to send her home early since it wasn’t too busy, but she didn’t want to give Delphine the satisfaction of knowing she was still so deep beneath her skin. She had hung back to help Bobby close the bar and it was the bartender who’d actually planted the seed in her head.

 

“Girl, you _really_ need to find yourself something else to fixate on.”

 

“I’m not fixating,” Cosima had snapped, aggressively wiping down a sticky table.

 

“Well, could you “not fixate” on another table? You’ve been scrubbing for ten minutes now—are you trying to sand the damn thing?”

 

She had stormed out of the bar in a huff, though she found herself unable to return home to Tony’s house. She couldn’t spend the night stewing on her cousin’s couch. She tried to call Sarah to see if she wanted to hit up an after hours and drink away the rest of the night, but the Brit never answered her phone and Felix was equally as unreachable as his sister. She considered wandering out into the city on her own when she was struck by an idea, hard as lighting.

 

_Shay._

 

She had no way of knowing if things would still be the same, but it couldn't be worse than crawling back into bed with Delphine. She had rushed back to Tony’s, digging through her belongings to find one of the letters Shay had written her after she was released. With the address in her mind and Google Maps to guide her, she found herself on her prison lover’s doorstep in the middle of the night just _praying_ the blonde was as understanding as she remembered.

 

And she was.

 

It may have been three o’clock in the morning but after a few steady knocks, she heard shuffling in the apartment and Shay greeted her just minutes later, the sleep quickly vanishing from her eyes the second she realized who her visitor was. She invited Cosima inside without a moment’s hesitation and immediately began making tea so the two of them could talk.

 

And they did.

 

Conversation flowed easily between them, not like with Delphine. She took care to omit any mention of the French woman’s name while recounting her story to Shay and once the conversation had ended, Shay had looked at her with the smallest glint in her eyes, with a smile tugging at her lips, and invited Cosima to spend the night.

 

How could she pass up a warm bed and even warmer company?

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Shay’s words root her back in the present.

 

Cosima nods.

 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

Shay sits up, still straddling Cosima’s waist though halting any advancement. 

 

“You seemed pretty tense last night,” she says. “I didn’t want to press it, but I just want to make sure everything’s okay.”

 

Cosima smiles, reaching up to cup Shay’s face. She delicately brushes her thumbs along her cheekbones and tucks a few stray pieces of hair behind the blonde’s ears.

 

“I’m fine,” she tells her.

 

It’s not exactly a lie, though it isn’t the truth either. She feels fine in the moment, though she knows the second the euphoria of their reunion wears off and she returns to the world, she’s still going to feel just as bitter as ever.

 

“I’ve just been stressed lately,” she admits.

 

“Can’t imagine it’s more stressful out here than it is in there.”

 

Cosima nods.

 

She thought getting out of prison would mean everything would get easier from here on out, but if anything, her life is far more complicated now than it ever was when she was behind bars. She certainly doesn’t miss prison—the experience was horrifying in its own right—but she wishes someone would have warned her how shitty things would be after getting out just so she could have prepared herself a little better.

 

“I ran into Delphine.”

 

She pauses, gauging Shay’s reaction. Shay pauses as well, slowly processing Cosima’s words.

 

“And how’d that go?”

 

Cosima sighs, twisting her body out from underneath the blonde. Once she’s free, she sits up straight and tries to center herself, considering her words very carefully. She doesn’t want to blow up and unnerve her lover, but she can’t stop her emotions from swelling every time she speaks about Delphine.

 

“She’s… she’s un-fucking-believable,” Cosima begins. “First, she totally butts in on a job I’m running with Sarah and Felix and ruins everything. We ended up losing the score _and_ we nearly got caught. Then she shows up later to tell me that she misses me and that she’s sorry for being a mega-bitch, that she wants to get back together. She wants to be _partners,_ of all things.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“I know, right?”

 

She’s glad to know she’s not overreacting—that she’s not the only one who thinks the entire situation is completely fucked up. Delphine had approached her as if it were the most casual thing in the world—as if asking her to team up again after everything that went down between them made perfect sense.

 

“What did you say?” Shay asks.

 

“What do you think I said?” Cosima retorts, nearly laughing at the ridiculousness of the question. “I told her to keeping fucking dreaming.”

 

She reaches for the smoothie on the nightstand, taking a few more gulps before wiping her lips on the back of her hand. Shay watches her through curious eyes that silently assess the damage.

 

“It’s just… I know how much she meant to you,” she tries, extending a soft and supporting hand to caress Cosima’s back. “You spent, like, every single day pining for her.”

 

“Not _every_ day,” Cosima throws back.

 

“Okay. _Most_ days,” Shay corrects herself.

 

Cosima laughs dismissively, then throw her legs over the edge of the bed and stands. Shay’s eyes follow her the entire way to the bathroom, frowning when Cosima disappears behind the door. 

 

“What are you going to do?” she calls out.

 

The words reach Cosima’s ears as she takes a seat on the toilet and relieves her full bladder. 

 

“Nothing. I’m done with it all,” Cosima yells back.

 

She frowns, the French woman entering her thoughts once again. She wonders if Delphine will actually stay away this time and grant her the peace she’s been desperately in search of ever since she left prison. It’s doubtful. She knows Delphine—knows that she’ll fight and rage until she gets her way because she _always_ does, in the end. Maybe Sarah was right after all and the only way she’ll ever be able to escape Delphine and her past is if they finish their job and take off running to South America. Maybe that’s her only shot at a real future.

 

“I don’t even wanna think about her right now,” Cosima mutters beneath her breath, finishing in the bathroom and stalking back over to Shay’s bed. “It’s getting me too worked up.”

 

She huffs in annoyance, plopping herself back down onto the mattress. Shay smiles playfully, stretching across the length of the bed to close the distance between them. She presses a kiss to Cosima’s cheek.

 

“Well, I can help with that,” she promises.

 

Cosima’s smile returns, she finds a fistful of blonde hair and runs her fingers through the silky tresses.

 

“I bet you can.”

 

She draws the smaller woman in closer, stealing a long kiss and nearly sighing at the relief that immediately washes through her. She forgets about Delphine for a moment and allows herself to relax into the gentle touch of her lover.

 

“I always have, haven’t I?” Shay teases.

 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

 

Shay freezes.

 

“You _guess_?” she asks with an arched brow. “Don’t forget who was there to hold your hand through everything.”

 

“I know, I know,” Cosima concedes.

 

When Sarah couldn’t be there for her—when Delphine _wouldn’t_ —Shay was there. If it weren’t for the spirited and patient young woman she’s certain she wouldn’t have made it through her sentence with her sanity intact; Shay had made the long days bearable, had endured countless hours of her sorrow and anger and regret over Delphine, had offered her comfort in any way she knew how. Shay had been a true friend to her—there was no ulterior motive, no level of expectation. 

 

Shay is perfect.

  
Or at least on paper she is.

 

“So, why didn't you look me up sooner?”

 

It’s a fair question.

 

“I don’t know,” Cosima sighs. “I sorta just wanted to get my shit together—get my feet on the ground and my head on straight, you know?”

 

Shay hums in understanding.

 

“To be honest, I didn’t even know if you’d still be into me,” Cosima admits.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Shay counters with a laugh.

 

Cosima offers her a genuine smile and rolls onto her back, pulling Shay with her until the smaller girl is tucked into her side.

 

“Well, everything’s different out here. Larger pool, you know?” Cosima rambles. “It’s like dating someone in high school—you sorta get together out of necessity since there aren’t that many prospects. But then you both get into different colleges and realize that maybe what worked in high school isn’t gonna work anymore, that there are people better suited.”

 

Shay turns her head to stare blankly at Cosima’s face. 

 

“Did you just compare prison to high school?”

 

Cosima laughs.

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

Shay nods.

 

“Don’t worry. You’re still my favourite fish in this great big sea.”

 

Cosima’s laughter builds and she squeezes Shay a little tighter until they're both laughing. She almost forgot what it feels like to breathe easy, to wake up in the morning without this crushing weight on her chest. She wonders if she can actually do this—forget about Delphine completely and pursue something with Shay; it would probably be the healthiest thing for her to do and she wants to tell herself that it’ll be all-too-easy to push the French woman from her thoughts so long as she has the Russian at her side, but she knows it isn’t so cut and dry.

 

Their brief moment of respite is interrupted by a text tone from Shay’s phone. Cosima groans in mild frustration as Shay slowly slithers out of her grasp to reach for her phone and check it, the look on her face immediately transforming.

 

“What is it?” Cosima pries.

 

“Nothing,” Shay dismisses her. “I just have a thing later.”

 

“A _thing_?”

 

Now her curiosity is piqued.

 

“Yeah. Some family-party-thing,” Shay explains.

 

Cosima sits up.

 

“Like… “family” family?” she tries to clarify. “The same family that—”

 

“Yep.”

 

Shay had never shared much about her family other than the fact that they were Russian mob and that her involvement with them was the reason she had landed herself in prison.

 

“Wow. So… you’re still in with them?”

 

Shay shakes her head.

 

“Not exactly,” she replies. “I’m not doing any stupid shit, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“That’s a relief,” Cosima expels.

 

They had spent many hours talking about what they’d do when they were free—returning to a life of crime had never once come up and even though Shay says she has no intention of getting involved with the mob again, Cosima knows that these sorts of ties are not so easily severed.

 

“Despite everything that’s happened, they’re still my family, you know? I still love them—I still want them to be a part of my life,” Shay tries to justify her actions.

 

Cosima is in awe.

 

“How can you do that? How can you forgive them so easily?”

 

How many years of her life had she lost because of her involvement with her family? How can the blonde just walk right back to them without any sort of qualms? Cosima thinks about Delphine; even if she _wanted_ to forgive her ex-girlfriend, she doesn’t even know where she would begin.

 

“I never said forgiveness was easy,” Shay tells her. “But at the end of the day, how upset can I really be? I’ve always known what they are—what they do. It’s not like they duped me. I was the one who fucked up—not them.”

 

Shay’s words ring in Cosima’s ears.

 

“Really? You don’t see anything wrong with them being mobsters?”

 

Shay laughs, swatting Cosima’s leg.

 

“Of course there’s something wrong with it. All I’m saying is that you can’t buy a puppy and then get upset when it shits on the floor—that’s what puppies _do_.”

 

Cosima nods slowly, the words seeping in. She takes her time to mull them over.

 

“You wanna come?” Shay asks with a wriggle of her eyebrows.

 

“To a mob party?” Cosima asks incredulously. “Yeah. I don’t think so.”

 

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun!” Shay exclaims, bouncing slightly on the bed.

 

“You and I have very different definitions of fun.”

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

She doesn’t know how she let Shay talk her into this but she feels uncomfortable the second she sets foot in the large, lavish mansion. There are men and women all around (speaking mostly in Russian) and music playing softly in the background. Shay takes her by the hand and guides her through rooms and people until they’re standing in the beautifully decorated dining room. She plucks two glasses of champagne from amongst the neat rows set out on the table and hands one to Cosima.

 

“Super swanky,” the brunette comments, her eyes scanning the crowd.

 

“Yeah. My uncle likes to do things big,” Shay replies.

 

Cosima shifts uncomfortably, trying her hardest not to look out of place. She doesn’t want to cling to Shay but she doesn’t have very many options; most of the partygoers either ignore her completely or glance at her skeptically which is why when she feels a hand settle on her shoulder from behind, she nearly jumps out of her skin.

 

“ _Lapochka!_ ”

 

Cosima whirls around to see the perpetrator wrap his arms around Shay in a tight hug, a huge smile dominating his visage. He’s an older man, probably in his late-fifties or early-sixties, with silver stubble on his face and salt and pepper hair slicked neatly back. His cologne is strong enough to match his jawline and he’s dressed impeccably in a designer suit that he wears with a subdued yet undeniable confidence earned only through age and status; on his wrist, a gleaming silver and yellow-gold Rolex worth more than Cosima stands to make in months slaving at Bobby’s—tips included.

 

“It’s good to see you, Uncle.”

 

When they part, he presses a kiss to each of her cheeks and then turns his attention to Cosima.

 

“Ah. You must be my niece’s friend—the one she told me about.”

 

“U-Uh, yeah,” Cosima stammers, offering her hand to shake. “I’m Cosima. Nice to meet you.”

 

He ignores it, instead opting for a sturdy hug she finds herself nearly drowning in. He's a burly man despite his age and she can barely fit her arms around his torso to half-heartedly reciprocate the gesture. When they part, he repeats the same process he did with his niece and presses a kiss to each of her cheeks as she tries not to squirm and make her discomfort known.

 

“The pleasure is mine,” he tells her, his Russian accent thick. “I am Dmitri. Shaydushka has told me so much about you.”

 

Cosima arches a brow, inspecting the blonde who’s smiling coyly.

 

“She has?”

 

Dmitri beams.

 

“All good things, of course,” he clarifies. “She told me you were a loyal friend; loyalty is so hard to find these days.”

 

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Cosima mutters.

 

He laughs, pulling out a chair and gesturing for her to take a seat.

 

“Come. Sit.”

 

Cosima glances hesitantly over to Shay who nods her head, encouraging her to play along. Dmitri pulls another chair out for Shay and the tiny blonde promptly sits. Trying to follow her lead, Cosima lowers herself slowly into the chair and then watches as Dmitri takes a seat of his own on the other side of the table.

 

“What is it you do now that you’re free?” he asks. 

 

Cosima twirls her champagne lute, the bubbles rising to the surface mirroring her own feelings of anxiety. She tries to tell herself that she has no reason to be anxious, that she’s just here as Shay’s friend, but there’s something in the way Dmitri looks at her that has her stomach doing somersaults.

 

“Oh. Uh, not much. I’ve been bartending a few nights a week at my friend’s place for now,” she explains.

 

“Really? That seems like such a waste of your talents.”

 

There’s an undertone of disappointment in his voice and Cosima’s gaze shifts over to the blonde again. She wonders just how much Shay has disclosed about her past.

 

“My talents?” she asks.

 

“She tells me you’re very good with computers.”

 

Her nod is delayed.

 

“What else did she tell you?”

 

Sensing her hesitation, Dmitri throws his head back and booming laughter escapes. Shay joins him, reaching over to set a hand upon Cosima’s thigh and give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

 

“Don’t worry. She said nothing but great things,” Dmitri tries to put her at ease.

 

Cosima tips her head back and takes a long swig of her champagne.

 

“I could use someone with your skill set.”

 

She nearly chokes and spits the sprays alcohol everywhere but somehow manages to swallow it down, eyes wide and hand shielding her mouth. When she looks over to Shay again, the blonde is frowning.

 

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m out— _for good_ ,” she tells the older man.

 

He cocks his head.

 

“May I ask why?”

 

She exchanges another look with Shay, unable to decipher what it is she’s seeing on her lover’s face. Whatever it is, it certainly isn’t joy; Shay seems just as uncomfortable by the proposition as she is.

 

“Uh, because I spent the last five years in prison?” she tries. “I have no desire to go back.”

 

Dmitri gingerly folds his hands, resting them on the table in front of him.

 

“With the Bratva at your back, you will never serve another day in prison.”

 

She can hear Leekie’s voice in her head now, speaking those very same words to her and Delphine all those years ago. Leekie was supposed to be a powerful man—powerful enough to protect them. In the end, it made no difference.

 

“You know, my last employer told me the same thing—that I’d be taken care of, that I’d never see the inside of a cell. No one can keep a promise like that in this business.”

 

Dmitri chuckles.

 

“Your last employer isn’t me.”

 

“No, he certainly isn’t,” she mutters.

 

Dmitri may be as conniving as Leekie on a certain level, but she doesn’t see any disdain in his eyes. From the first moment they started associating with Leekie, she always got the impression that he regarded her as nothing more than a nuisance—that Delphine was his true prize and she simply came along with the territory. Whether it was true or not, she believed that they’d both be safe so long as they stuck together. 

 

“You shouldn’t waste your time running around with small men,” Dmitri lectures her. “You could be aiming so much higher.”

 

“You sound just like Leekie,” Cosima laughs sardonically, finishing her champagne.

 

Dmitri freezes.

 

“Aldous Leekie?”

 

Cosima pauses, carefully considering her course of action.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Dmitri leans forward in his seat while Shay folds her arms over her chest and tries to keep her frown at bay.

 

“Aldous Leekie is your former employer?” he presses.

 

“Uh, yeah. You know him?”

 

“Of course I do,” he says. “I need to know my competitors.”

 

The way he speaks puts Cosima on edge. She _knows_ how Leekie deals with competitors and it’s safe to assume that Dmitri has a similar protocol, being Bratva and all. Her heart begins to beat double time as soon as she recognizes the dangerous turn this conversation has suddenly taken.

 

“He made all of those same promises and he never kept a single one.”

 

Dmitri is silent, considering. He scratches at the scruff of his beard and nods.

 

“Your mistake was trusting that man. He’s a snake.”

 

“Yeah. I figured that one out, thanks.”

 

She figured it out too late, but she knows now that it’s impossible for her to trust a word Leekie says and so it must be impossible for her to trust Delphine; so long as she’s aligned with him, any promise she makes can never be kept—any sincerity that may have emanated from her voice is tainted. 

 

It’s infuriating to her that her ex can’t seem to grasp this.

 

“Still, it’s surprising to me that he’d hang such a valuable asset out to dry,” Dmitri remarks.

 

Cosima blinks.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Shay trades glances with her uncle, her eyes glimmering with what seems to be a silent warning; she knows where this conversation is heading and she silently pleads with him not to push Cosima too far. He seems to consider her for a brief moment, though he quickly shifts his focus back to Cosima.

 

“If you’re half as good at what you do as Shaydushka has told me, it’s hard for me to understand why he wouldn’t protect you—safeguard such a strong asset.”

 

She thought the same thing at first, but the evidence against her was far more damning than she could have anticipated. When she thinks back on it now, she doesn’t know how she ever expected Leekie to come through for her. How could _anyone_ deliver on such promises? He was just another modern day wizard, spinning grand tales from behind a curtain and using smoke and mirrors to inflate himself to a size so great that even he became caught in his own orbit.

 

“There was nothing he could have done,” Cosima shrugs. “The evidence was pretty damning.”  


Dmitri smirks.

 

“Oh? Is that what he told you?”

 

And just like that, she immediately feels her blood run cold—feels a sweat break out despite the ice in her veins. The knowing look in Dmitri’s eyes digs at a truth she’s considered once or twice before but always buried away before it had time to infect her.

 

“Do you think I’m the only one with police and judges on my payroll? With a team of top-notch lawyers at my disposal?” he asks her.

 

Of course not.

 

From what she understood, Leekie owned half of this city—maybe more. 

 

“My dear girl, if you spent so many years sitting in a cell, it’s because Aldous Leekie wanted you there.”

 

She sets her empty glass down heavily on the table, nearly cracking the stem in the process. She feels her body begin to quake, her vision begin to narrow, her chest begin to heave. Shay reaches over to find her hand and she instinctively shakes her off, rising quickly to her feet in a flash of anger.

 

“Son of a bitch,” she spits through gritted teeth.

 

So Leekie _had_ set her up to fail. 

 

“This is wonderful!” Dmitri laughs, rising to match her energy.

 

“I’m sorry, but how is any of this wonderful?” she snaps.

 

She’s not so concerned with her tone anymore, with upsetting the Bratva or anyone else. She’s not concerned with the sympathetic look in Shay’s eyes as she gazes wordlessly at Cosima trying to figure out what she can do to ease her nerves and de-escalate the situation.

 

“It’s as if God himself has put you in my path!” Dmitri exclaims, clearly excited. “I need someone to help me get rid of Aldous Leekie and you need justice! We can help each other!”

 

She considers it.

 

She _seriously_ considers it.

 

She’s ashamed, but all she can think of is how badly she wants to murder Aldous Leekie. She’s never considered herself a vengeful person and she was serious before when she told Delphine that she was finished with everything, that she was ready to move on. But now? With this newfound knowledge, how can she just walk away and pretend like nothing ever happened? How can she let that man continue to manipulate people and ruin their lives? 

 

What about Delphine?

 

Does she know? Did she have a part in any of this? Is she truly the guilty one or was she just another pawn, like her? Is it possible that they were _both_ used—that they’re being played against each other like fools?

 

It’s too much.

 

“I… I’m sorry. I need to think,” Cosima stammers, rushing out of the dining room.

 

“Of course. Take all the time you need. I’ll be awaiting your answer!” Dmitri calls from behind.

 

She pushes through all of the strangers, her legs moving on their own. She’s completely unaware of her surroundings, focused only on finding the door and getting the fuck out this hornet’s nest as soon as possible. She forgets about Shay entirely until she feels a hand pull at her arm from behind.

 

“What the hell, Shay?” she snaps, whipping around to let loose.

 

“I’m sorry!” Shay apologizes. “I-I didn’t know he was gonna offer you a job or anything, I swear! I asked him if it was okay to bring you as a friend and he said he wanted to meet you! I-I didn’t think that—”

 

“You told him about me?” Cosima interrupts.

 

“I just mentioned you once or twice,” Shay says quietly. “When I got out, he asked me about prison. He wanted to know if I was treated well—if there was anyone he had to… _deal with._ I told him I was fine because I’d made a friend, that you’d helped me through it all.”

 

The petite blonde bows her head in a sign of submission and Cosima sighs deeply at the sight. She knows Shay meant well—Shay’s _always_ meant well. As frustrating as her naiveté is in the moment, she knows she shouldn’t be blaming her for everything that’s just transpired.

 

“I need to get out of here.”

 

“Yeah. Of course,” Shay nods.

 

They both leave in a hurry, Cosima slipping into the passenger side of Shay’s vintage Bug. The second the car starts, Cosima slams a fist against the glove compartment and Shay recoils, alarmed by the brunette’s aggression.

 

“Leekie fucked me over—and Delphine’s _still_ running with him! She’s probably in on the whole thing!”

 

Shay slowly pulls out of her parking spot, her eyes scanning the mirror to make sure they’re clear.

 

“Are you really that surprised?” she asks softly.

 

It’s a valid point.

 

If Delphine _is_ in on the con, she shouldn’t be surprised at all given what she knows about her ex.

 

_But still…_

 

“I… I don’t know. I knew he was a slime bag and I knew she was fucked in the head but I didn’t think—I didn’t think she’d fuck with me like _this_ , you know?” Cosima rambles, her thoughts racing. “Reaching out to me, trying to get me back on board? What kind of game is she playing?” 

 

She just can’t figure out what Delphine’s angle in all of this is.

 

“Do you think he sent her to keep tabs on you?”

 

It isn’t an absurd question, but somehow she just doesn’t believe it.

 

“I don’t know… but I got the impression that the whole partnership thing was her idea.”

 

She’s almost certain of it. 

 

Leekie is manipulative, but Delphine reaching out to her? It doesn’t seem like his doing. If Leekie had his way, she would still be in prison or at the very least, far enough away where she couldn’t interfere with Delphine or his business. Even before, she was always fairly good at discerning when the blonde would move her lips and that man’s voice would slip out and she didn’t get a sense of it during their last conversation. Whether Delphine’s conspiring with Leekie or not, whether they’ve both concocted some sort of plan together, she’s almost certain that Delphine reaching out to her wasn’t at the guidance of Aldous Leekie—that it was initiated by her ex-girlfriend for reasons she may not ever fully comprehend.

 

“Cosima,” Shay sighs, visibly deflating. “Do you really think Delphine’s been playing you like that? I know she hurt you and everything and I’m not saying she’s completely innocent in the matter, but do you really think she set you up or do you just _want_ to believe that she did to make things easier?”

 

“Why would I _want_ to believe that the woman I used to think I’d spend the rest of my life with would fuck me over like that?” Cosima barks, clearly irritated by Shay’s insinuation.

 

And even though she speaks the words, she knows she’s deflecting—that maybe there’s some semblance of truth to the young Russians’s words.

 

Does she want to believe that Delphine has been in on the con the entire time? It would certainly give her more ammunition, more reason to harbour the hatred currently building in the pit of her stomach. It would certainly make things easier moving forward—in cutting Delphine out completely. On some level she thinks this would be the easiest way forward, but she also can’t deny the handful of things she still knows to be true—that there _was_ something special between them all those years ago—that there’s _still_ something between them now, even if she may not be able to describe it or accept it.

 

“You know, I never resented her because I thought she sold me out or whatever—that she used me to save her own ass,” Cosima muses, her eyes downturned to match the tone of her voice. “I honestly don’t know if she did. I mean, it’s definitely possible—it’s possible I was just a fucking idiot and didn’t see it—that I still can’t see it because I just don’t want to—because I was so in love with her.”

 

Shay’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as they come to a red light at an intersection and slowly come to a complete stop. A beat of silence passes between the two of them, both unable to look each other in the eyes. It isn’t until the light turns green and Shay starts up again that Cosima continues with her thought.

 

“But even if that were the case—whether it’s true or not—it wasn’t the reason,” Cosima all but whispers. “That wasn't her betrayal—not the one that mattered, at least.”

 

They’ve both made mistakes. Even if Delphine had made one that ended up costing her her future, she’s certain she would have forgiven the blonde—would have found a way to forgive her—if she just knew Delphine was right there with her the entire time.

 

“Yeah,” Shay mutters, her mouth dry. “I know.”

 

They ride in silence for the remainder of their drive until they arrive back at Shay’s apartment. She parks the car, turning the ignition off, but neither woman make any attempt to move from their current position.

 

“How could she not know?” 

 

Cosima’s voice trembles.

 

Her eyes shine, her lower lip quivers.

 

She decides that she wants to believe that Delphine had no involvement, but how can Delphine have gone for this long without catching scent of it? How can she not see what kind of man Aldous Leekie is? How can she not have pieced it together herself? Delphine is bright and perceptive and too clever for her own good, so how can she just not know what Aldous Leekie has done? 

 

Either she knows, or she just doesn’t want to know.

 

Cosima isn’t sure which betrayal is worse.

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

_“You’re getting out?”_

 

_Disbelief washes over her like a cold October downpour, seeping straight into her bones and sending a shiver through the rest of her body._

 

_It isn’t_ **_bad_ ** _news, per se._

 

_She should be overjoyed that Shay is going to be out of this hellhole soon, free to resume her life; she should be relieved that this woman she’s come to care for is finally going to get a shot at safety and happiness. She should be so many things, upset not being one of them, and she feels all the more guilty for the sour taste on her tongue as she tries to digest the news._

_  
Shay’s leaving._

 

_Shay’ s leaving_ **_her._ **

 

_Shay’s leaving her_ **_alone._ **

 

**_“_ ** _That’s… that’s great.”_

 

_She wrestles with the words, unsuccessfully trying to rally her enthusiasm and convince her lover that her sentiment is genuine._

 

_“Hey. Don’t sound too excited,” Shay says flatly._

 

_Cosima sighs deeply—honestly._

 

_“I’m happy for you, Shay. I really am.”_

 

_Even if she can’t feel the joy at this particular moment, she knows her mixed feelings toward the entire situation will eventually subside. When they do, she’ll approach it with a smile, with open arms and understanding._

 

_“You’ll be getting out soon, too,” Shay says quietly, sensing the brunette’s wandering mind._

 

_Cosima nods._

 

_“I know. It’s just… I’ve never been here without you.”_

 

_She’s reminded of Delphine—of looking back into the gallery at her sentencing hearing and finding the blonde’s absence painful and apparent like a deep, messy wound—like a chasm splitting her entire world in two. She should have realized then that she was the fool, but excuse after excuse came to her as she tried to reason away her girlfriend’s inexcusable silence._

 

_“It’s hard to think what this place is gonna be like,” she confesses._

 

_She had replaced her world without Delphine with one full of Shay, but without either of them? She can’t even begin to imagine such a place. Are the walls as suffocating as the ones that enclose around her every day? Does the quiet pick at her brain like a crow at a carcass? Is she still the same person there or is she somehow changed—or is it just the ground beneath her that’s shifting?_

 

_“I’ll come visit every week,” her lover promises._

 

_Cosima frowns and shakes her head._

 

_“No. Don’t do that.”_

 

_She doesn't know what prompts the words. She’s acutely aware of how out of character they are. A piece of her delights in the prospect of Shay’s concession, but she knows deep down that she simply can’t accept it because the only thing worse than being left alone is holding someone back there with you. There’s no truer state of loneliness, she thinks._

 

_“Why not?”_

 

_“No one should ever have to come back here,” Cosima tells her._

 

_No one should have to live like this; she’s stretched herself so thin, one foot planted in the past while the other tries to pull her forward, that she’s afraid the next wolf who comes knocking at her door will blow the rest of her away and she’ll never be able to rebuild._

 

_“I don’t mind,” Shay shrugs._

 

_“I do.”_

 

_She won’t be responsible for stealing Shay’s happiness. She won’t be the black cloud that lingers over every conversation—every decision or indecision—even if it means she finds herself alone again._

 

_“Fine. I’ll write you?”_

 

_“Deal.”_

 


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Note:** Yes, I’m still alive. What can I say? Life’s been busy, as per usual. That being said, rest assured that I will be finishing this fic and have not abandoned Cophine. As always, feedback is much appreciated and I thank everyone for the support. Now that the show’s over, looks like we’ll have to entertain ourselves, huh?

She inhales a shaky breath with the hope that it will steady her and help her find her center, though the second she feels the air fill the chamber of her lungs, she’s more unstable than ever before; it’s as if she’s made of glass—both brittle and exposed at the same time, on the verge of breaking beneath the pressure on her chest that increases with each picture that flashes before her eyes as she scrolls through on her laptop.

 

It’s a violation.

 

She knows this.

 

She knows if Cosima ever finds out that she’s been monitoring her, any hope she has of maintaining even a speaking relationship with the cheeky brunette will immediately be crushed. Despite this fact, she doesn’t regret her decision; even as she brings the glass to her lips, taking a long gulp of bourbon and grimacing as it burns all the way down to torment her stomach, she knows now that every step she's taken has been absolutely necessary. She clears her throat, shifting in her seat as she switches back and forth between two pictures in particular: one of Cosima entering a low-rise in the middle of the night following their argument at Bobby’s and the other of her leaving that same building hours later in broad daylight, hand-in-hand with a perky-looking blonde that’s even smaller than she is. They both climbed into a vintage beetle—the most obnoxious car she’s ever seen—and drove off to a gathering at one of the largest mansions she’s ever laid eyes on.

 

She instantly knew something was off.

 

With the resources available to her, it wasn’t hard to identify the owner of the mansion and the moment Dmitri Davydov’s name flashed across her screen, she felt her blood freeze in her veins. She had tasked one of her more discreet lackeys with keeping tabs on her ex-girlfriend for the next few days until she could figure out just what was going on and what she could do with the information she found herself bombarded with. Now that she’s certain of the plot currently in the works, she knows she has to bring this to Aldous.

 

She slams her laptop screen shut, finishing her drink quickly before rising and throwing her coat on. He isn’t going to like this at all, but what choice does she have? Dmitri Davydov is a disaster waiting to happen and if Cosima’s involved with him, she’ll have to start making quick and decisive moves to free her before it’s too late. 

 

She storms through the back entrance of Neolution and aside from some of the staff who are just arriving for their shifts, the club is completely empty. It’s still too early in the evening for the loud, illicit activity that usually takes place in the darkest hours of the night but she knows that Aldous will be in his office, so she seeks him out.

 

“We have a problem,” she announces with her presence, commanding the attention of the older man the second she pushes through the door.

 

He looks up from his desk, pausing to acknowledge her with a furrowed brow.

 

“Do we now?”

 

There’s a glint in his eye that indicates he’s more intrigued and amused rather than concerned by her proclamation.

 

“It’s Cosima.”

 

Aldous smirks.

 

“You were the one who convinced me it was worth bringing her back into the fold,” he reminds her. “Has she slipped up again already?”

 

“No, it’s not that. She doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

 

“Then what’s the problem?” he counters with a head cocked in curiosity.

 

“The problem is the Bratva.”

 

His face contorts instantly and she can tell by the pitted frown he wears that she now has his full attention. He drops his pen, folding his hands on his desk and peering up at her intensely through the narrow slits of his eyes.

 

“What have you heard?”

 

“I haven’t really heard anything so far, but I’ve been following her these past few days and…”

 

She stops herself.

 

She knows she has to tell Aldous, but she wonders just how much she has to reveal—wonders if there’s a way to seize his full attention and get him to acknowledge the threat while still somehow protecting Cosima from the fallout.

 

“What is it?” he presses, sensing her hesitancy.

 

She takes a deep breath.

 

“I… I found her associating with known Bratva members—with Dmitri Davydov himself.”

 

His folded hands ball into fists and his jaw locks so tightly she swears she can hear his teeth begin to crack. He breathes a greedy breath of his own before choosing his words carefully, his tone low and pointed.

 

“Is she in bed with them?”

 

“No, I don’t think so,” Delphine immediately replies.

 

“You don’t _think so_?” he repeats.

 

She shakes her head, stepping nearer and placing both hands on the desk to brace herself as she leans in closer to the storm to get her point across.

 

“I know Cosima. She’d never align herself with the Bratva.”

 

“She would if she were trying to get back at me.”

 

He scrubs at his face with an anxious hand and Delphine becomes awash with confusion.

 

“Why would she want to get back at you? It’s _me_ she’s pissed at,” she chimes in. “She doesn’t have much love for you either, but I really don’t think she’d run to the Bratva out of spite.”

 

Cosima is rash and petulant, but she isn’t vindictive and she certainly isn’t stupid; involving herself with the Bratva as part of some sort of master plan to enact revenge is much farther than she knows the ex-con is willing to go. She knows this has something to do with that woman—the blonde Cosima had fled to after their argument—the one who’d taken her to meet with Dmitri. She ran the plates on the obnoxious car and discovered that the woman was also Bratva and that she had served time in the same prison as Cosima. She won’t deny the role her jealousy plays in this unfolding scenario, but she knows that whatever is going on with Cosima has far more to do with this woman than it does Dmitri Davydov.

 

“Have a seat,” Aldous instructs her.

 

She can tell by the look on his face and the weariness in his voice that he’s in no mood to argue with her so she obeys, lowering herself into the chair across from him.

 

“What is it? What’s going on?”

 

He sighs, meeting her gaze.

 

“I’ve been keeping an eye their movements for some time. I suspected they might try to settle in here—to make this city their next conquest,” he explains.

 

“It makes sense,” she concurs. “There’s definitely money to be made.”

 

“Yes. Dmitri must have smelled it.”

 

Delphine frowns.

 

“When I first began my business venture in this city, it was a wasteland—full of thugs and thieves who’s greatest accomplishments were robbing ATMs. Nobody believed in the potential I saw,” Aldous speaks. “This city was ripe for the picking.”

 

For years, Aldous Leekie has been the paramount figure in the criminal underworld; most other career criminals were small, petty men and women who lacked the scope and the resources. She remembers back to when she was younger, when she ran carelessly through the streets taking whatever she wanted in the moment, succumbing to each and every impulse the instant they struck her. There was no room for consequence in that world—if she saw something she wanted, she simply reached out and grabbed it. She had learned it all from her father when she was still too young to truly grasp what it meant; if she wanted to get ahead, she had to reach out and grab that future for herself—no one was going to hand it to her wrapped neatly in a bow.

 

So she did.

 

She ran wild through the city, reaching for everything in her grasp and even some things just outside of it; if she was close enough to graze it with the tips of her fingers, she knew it was only a matter of time before it became a reality—before she _made_ it a reality. 

 

That’s how she met Cosima.

 

What had started as her typical weekend conquest of bleeding some beefcake she met in a bar completely dry before tossing him to the wind had quickly transformed into a conquest of a different nature the second she laid eyes upon the dreadlocked girl with a smile much too bright for that grungy bar. She had watched Cosima dominate that pool table with a quiet confidence and she immediately forgot about her plans for world domination; all she could think of was claiming that smile for her own—of stealing the most valuable thing she’d come across thus far. And when she was rewarded with a tiny glimpse of it after handing Cosima her first defeat—as she felt the tips of her fingers graze against it—she knew it was hers—that she had found her great prize.

 

She was satisfied for a while.

 

It wasn’t until she realized such a state was unsustainable that she sought out Aldous Leekie for guidance. Even if she was gifted with a cleverness that set her miles above many others and kept her out trouble for the most part, that cleverness alone and all of her ambition meant nothing if she had no way to apply it. 

 

Aldous Leekie had given her that path.

 

He had given her a way forward—a way to distinguish herself from the masses and rise through the ranks—to become truly _great;_ he had given her a way build an actual future with Cosima—a way to protect and support her. 

 

“Now that others have seen my success, there’s no doubt they’ll try to capitalize on it. We’ve been the only shark in this ocean for too long.”

 

Delphine nods along.

 

“So you’re saying it’s about to turn into a war zone.”

 

She knew this was always a possibility, that power attracts more power, but she had hoped she’d be long gone before things spiralled out of control. For all her ambition, getting caught up in a turf war was never high on her list of goals.

 

“I’m not about to let that happen,” he tells her.

 

“If the Bratva are here, they’ve already declared war,” she argues. “I don’t know how you plan on stopping it.”

 

“With a few swift and brutal strokes.”

 

His words catch her off guard, though she knows she shouldn’t be surprised.

 

“We need to move quickly. I don’t want to allow them the opportunity to entrench themselves—everything will become more difficult if they do,” he begins. “We need to come down on them hard and fast—send a message that their presence here won’t be tolerated.”

 

“I agree.”

 

If there’s anything she’s learned from the men in the life, it’s that the only way to deal with a man like Dmitri Davydov is to crush him completely with one powerful, well-timed stomp; when the rest of his people realize just who they’re dealing with, when they witness one of their own put down like a sick dog, they’ll tuck tail and go running back to wherever they came from.

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Aldous grins.

 

He rises from his seat and she follows his example, her eyes on him as he walks around the desk and places both hands on her shoulders like he’s done so many times before, like a doting father offering words of support in a time of conflict.

 

“Go retrieve Cosima.”

 

She tenses.

 

_“Pardon?”_

 

She’s used to his commands, though for some reason, this one is unexpected.

 

“You said it yourself—if she becomes entangled with the Bratva, we’ll have an even bigger problem on our hands. Not to mention she’ll be stepping into the line of fire—something I’m sure you’d like to prevent,” he justifies his order.

 

“I know that, but… she’s stubborn,” she resists. “I already told you—she doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

 

He removes his hands from her shoulders, his face hardening. It sends a shiver down her spine.

 

“I don’t care what she wants. Her childish whims have no weight in this.”

 

“They’re not childish!” Delphine protests. “Cosima lost everything gambling on us! Now you’re asking her to do it again? How do you expect her to respond?”

 

As infuriating as her ex-girlfriend’s current behaviour is, she won’t pretend like she doesn’t understand it. Cosima’s wrath is justified—is expected—and as much as she hates being the focus of it, she hates the tone in his voice even more.

 

“I don’t think I have to remind you of her intellect,” Aldous snaps back at her with just as much aggression. “Not only is she a skilled resource that could prove troublesome in our enemy’s hands, but she has an intimate knowledge of our inner workings.”

 

“How? You never included her in any of your larger jobs! She’s been out of the picture for five years, Aldous! What could she possibly know from back then that would endanger us now?”

 

They don’t clash often but when they do, it’s usually hard and tumultuous; Aldous is a man who’s used to absolute authority, to never being questioned and crushing any potential opposition. While Delphine is not as harsh or unforgiving, she’s equally as ambitious and even more stubborn than her mentor. She’s seen what’s happened to those who’ve challenged Aldous and while she should be frightened based on that knowledge alone, she also knows that she occupies an advantageous position within his inner circle; he’s never once come down on her before, never punished her for speaking out or pushing back. In fact, she thinks there’s a part of him that even finds it amusing. 

 

Aldous doesn't have any children of his own.

 

He’s told her numerous times that he never wanted any children, but that he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride every time he looked at her knowing he had a hand in helping her recognize her full potential. He bears a softness for her and she suspects that this softness is the one thing that’s kept her alive and in his good graces for so long; she suspects that this softness grants her the ability to maneuver freely, to question him freely, to push back with just as much fire when she feels she’s in the right.

 

“She has an intimate knowledge of _you,_ ” he corrects himself.

 

His eyes quickly scan her and she freezes beneath his scrutiny. 

 

“So _that’s_ what this is about.”

 

She laughs incredulously at his presumptuousness, his words like a slap in the face; her relationship with Cosima has never been a secret and neither are her feelings, though she can’t help but feel insulted at his insinuation that their relationship is somehow toxic—that it will somehow be her downfall.

 

“If the Bratva snatch her up before we do, this ends one of two ways—with her dead, or with the two of us,” he replies, softening his tone in a bid to get through to her. “Quite frankly, I’d like to avoid both outcomes. Wouldn’t you?”

 

She draws her lower lip between her teeth, chewing anxiously out of habit. She doesn't want to believe him, but she knows that his assessment is fair.

 

“And what am I supposed to say to her? How am I supposed to convince her to come back?” she counters.

 

If Cosima wasn’t willing to listen to a word she had to say before, she doubts there’s any way she’ll come around now, especially if she tries to force herself back into her life so quickly after their last argument. She simply doesn’t know what she can do to regain her former lover’s trust at this point.

 

“That’s up to you,” he shrugs. “You know her better than anyone. You know which buttons to push.”

 

Pushing buttons is what got her here in this position in the first place.

 

She’s done playing games.

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

She exhales a cloud of smoke out the window and into the evening air, flicking the butt of her cigarette onto the pavement below, adding to the half-a-pack that’s already gathered just outside her car door. She’s never considered herself a chain smoker and she can’t even remember the last time she’s smoked this much, but her stomach is a ball of tightly knotted nerves and the only thing she can think to do is reach into her pack for one more, hoping the slight nicotine rush will ease her anxiety. She’s been camped out front of Bobby’s for the past two hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of Cosima; she knows the brunette is working tonight and judging by the time, she should be in the process of closing the bar.

 

So she waits.

 

She still hasn’t thought of anything to say to sway Cosima. She plays out a multitude of potential conversations in her mind and each and every one of them ends with Cosima snapping at her and marching away angrily. She thinks that maybe she _should_ be completely honest with her—tell her the reason why she disappeared so suddenly, why she hadn’t bothered to reach out afterwards. She doubts Cosima will believe her at all, but at least then she’ll be able to shake this ghost that’s been following her around for too long. The thought is put on the back burner the second she sees movement coming from the entrance and she flicks her half-smoked cigarette away, her eyes trained on Cosima as she locks the bar and then tucks her keys into her bag. Delphine opens her car door and steps out, cautiously approaching Cosima and waiting for her to notice. The second Cosima does, she freezes.

 

“Do I have to get a fucking restraining order or something?” she calls out, her tone sharp and eyes glaring.

 

There’s more animosity in her voice than usual as Delphine approaches and the blonde immediately knows that something is up—something has happened between now and their last meeting. There’s no doubt in her mind that it has something to do with the Bratva.

 

“Cosima, please—”

 

“No.”

 

Instantly shut down, Delphine sighs in frustration and tries again.

 

“Just listen—”

 

“I’m done listening, Delphine!”

 

Cosima’s voice is carried through the empty night, ricocheting off every building and echoing for miles in her mind. Delphine is stunned by the intensity of it and she falters, staring wide-eyed at the smaller girl with a startled look upon her face.

 

“I’m done with whatever the hell _this_ is!” Cosima adds, gesturing to the space between them. “I don’t wanna take your stupid job, I don’t wanna be partners again, and I _certainly_ don’t wanna be friends with you—never mind anything else!”

 

“I didn’t come here for work!” Delphine shouts, attempting to match Cosima’s intensity. “I came here because you’re making a huge mistake!”

 

Cosima pauses for a moment, considering her words.  


“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

 

Delphine regains her composure, swallowing hard.

 

“Your friend. She’s Bratva.”

 

She wasn’t sure before if Cosima knew the truth about the woman she sought refuge in, but judging by the lack of a reaction, she’s certain now that Cosima is aware of her affiliation with the Russian mob.

 

“Are you _stalking_ me now?”

 

She knows she’s exposed in the moment, but she can’t bring herself to care. This is more important than her violation of Cosima’s privacy—this is about Cosima’s safety. She’s willing to accept whatever consequences Cosima dishes out if it means she can keep her safe from everything that’s about to happen.

 

“Did you just hear what I—”

 

“I know what she is,” Cosima interrupts. “My _friend_ in prison I told you about? That’s her.”

 

Once again, Cosima is out for blood and she manages to strike another artery. Delphine can only blink in response to keep her eyes from watering, nodding slightly in understanding. She had suspected as much; she knew from her digging that Shay had served time in the same prison as Cosima, though she didn’t want to believe that something more substantial had developed between the two.

 

“Then you know how stupid it is getting involved with her,” Delphine finds her voice again. “Even more stupid than getting involved with Leekie.”

 

She doesn’t mean to sound spiteful, but she can’t help herself. Cosima laughs meekly in response, bringing a hand to cover her mouth as she shakes her head in disbelief.

 

“Incredible,” she mutters.

 

Delphine steps forward, pushing in even closer.

 

“Cosima, she’s dangerous!”

 

“ _You’re_ going to lecture me on getting involved with dangerous people? _You_?”

 

Cosima counters with her own step forward, the space between them so small now and rapidly heating up. There was a time when mere inches between them seemed like an entire ocean—deep and wide and entirely unacceptable to either of them—but now the closeness is painful and even though they both curse this burning pyre between them, neither of them are able to step away from the blisters—from the light.

 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Shay isn’t involved in any of that shit anymore,” Cosima tells her.

 

“Is that what she told you?”

 

Cosima may be the smartest person she’s ever known, but she’s also the most naive. She’s always seen the best in people even when there’s no good to be found. As much as she adores this aspect of her personality (God knows it’s probably the only reason they got together in the first place), she can’t help but find it frustrating in this situation.

 

“The Bratva isn’t something you just walk away from,” she tries to convince her.

 

She’s heard stories about their ruthlessness and even though she hasn’t experienced it first hand, she has witnessed it through Aldous who enforces a similar policy; she’s watched him crush all those who would turn against him, who would try to turn their back and walk away from what he’s spent so long building. While she’s never condoned his brutality herself, she can’t say she doesn’t understand it.

 

Cosima scoffs, then tries to push by her. Sensing that physical contact is definitely unwelcome, Delphine doesn’t try to reach out for her this time. Instead she uses her words and hopes that it will be enough to reel her back in before it’s too late.

 

“Cosima, things are going to get… complicated,” she tries. “Now that the Bratva are in town, Leekie isn’t happy. Things are going to get bloody very soon and if you keep hanging around this girl, you’re going to get caught in the middle.”

 

Cosima stops, then turns around to rekindle the conversation.

 

“Is that a threat?”

 

Delphine expels yet another exasperated sigh, running a hand through her hair to keep it from reaching out and grabbing the stubborn brunette to aggressively shake some sort of sense into her.

 

“No, I’m not threatening you! I’m trying to help you!” 

 

Her voice wavers and cracks, thick with her emotions. Cosima catches it easily, her rage dissolving briefly as she carefully considers the woman before her—the woman she has no reason to trust, who is nearly on her knees before her and begging for her ear.

 

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that you’re jealous?” Cosima questions her, arms folded over her chest.

 

“Cosima… if you don’t want to be with me, I understand.”

 

It isn’t the reaction the ex-con is expecting and it shakes her. Delphine approaches quickly and closes the wedge Cosima had managed to create just seconds ago. The last time they were this close together, their lips had instinctively found each other before subsequently falling into bed. Even now, Cosima’s eyes drop to the blonde’s lips and she regards them cautiously for a moment before meeting Delphine’s gaze again, completely ensnared/

 

“You were right before. You’re too smart to waste your life away like this,” Delphine tells her, voice soft and accent seemingly thicker than usual. “You _should_ start over—you _deserve_ to start over—but you’ll never be able to do that with her and you _know it_.”

 

What happens next is unexpected on both their parts.

 

Cosima reaches out, placing an unsteady hand upon Delphine’s chest. Neither of them know exactly what it means—if it’s meant to reestablish a connection or to keep some distance between them—to draw them closer together or push them further apart at a moment’s notice.

 

“You… you have _no right_ to come here and tell me how to live my life,” Cosima tells her, voice quaking.

 

She clutches the blonde’s dark blouse with her trembling hand Delphine lifts her own hand to cover Cosima’s balled fist, to gently brush her thumb across the angry knuckles.

 

“You’re right,” she concedes. “But as someone who cares about you, I still had to say it.”

 

Cosima drops her gaze, her head dipping lower as she tries to hide her face and gather her thoughts.

 

“Yeah, right.”

 

She silently lets go, reclaiming her hand. She tries to turn and leave again but is instantly entrapped by Delphine’s voice as soon as she starts speaking again.

 

“I thought about you every day, you know. I should have been there.”

 

Cosima’s breath catches in her chest and Delphine offers her a small, hopeless smile as some sort of comfort.

 

“If I could turn back time, I’d do things differently… but I _can’t_. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but that doesn’t change the way I feel, Cosima. I don't think it ever will.”

  
The look in Cosima’s eyes immediately changes the second the confession slips out. Her nostrils flare, her eyes flickering with the rage she had suspended earlier. Delphine can feel her wrath long before the brunette even speaks and it rattles her.

 

“Yeah? Did you feel all lovey-dovey when you were selling me out to Leekie?”

 

She’s not sure she understands the questions—nor the venom laced within in—so she blinks, allowing a few seconds to pass. When she’s still unable to process the words, she cocks her head oh-so-slightly to the left and flashes Cosima a quizzical glance.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

Cosima’s chest puffs out, full of her own self-righteousness.

 

“I know he fucked me over,” she accuses. “I took the fall for you and he was supposed to get me out. Instead he dropped me newborn giraffe.”

 

Delphine passively shakes her head, Cosima’s words failing to make any sort of sense. 

 

“Aldous… he said the case against you was too strong, that he couldn’t—”

 

“Oh, _come on_. You know he has half the police force and most of the judges in this city in his back pocket.”

 

She stops herself, racking her brain for a possible answer. She thinks back to five years ago, back to when _her_ fuck up landed Cosima in trouble; she had never intended for Cosima to take the heat—never intended to pin her mistakes on the brunette and leave her to deal with the consequences. Cosima had interjected before she even had a chance slither her way out of danger, leaving her with no choice but to roll with the story her stubborn girlfriend had concocted.

 

Delphine did what she could.

 

She went running to Aldous, begging him to make it right. He had promised her that he would do everything in his power to ensure that Cosima was safe and she had trusted him. In the end, he had told her that the evidence against Cosima was just too overwhelming and that it would be impossible for her to avoid jail time—that he couldn’t intervene without exposing himself and everything they’d worked for.

 

“Why would he do something like that?” she asks, more for herself than Cosima.

 

“You tell me.”

 

With arms folded across her chest and a scowl carved across her face, Cosima awaits her answer.

 

Delphine doesn’t have one for her.

 

“You… you seriously don’t know?”

 

She feels her heart catch in her chest as she rewinds through her memories, trying to find something that might lead her to whatever answer Cosima’s already discovered. Why would Aldous want Cosima in prison? What did he possibly have to gain from her incarceration? Cosima was far more valuable to him under his employment than sitting in a jail cell, so why would he willingly forfeit her expertise unless the return was more beneficial? What could that return be?

 

“He’s been fucking with the both of us from the beginning, Delphine!” Cosima cries out, answering for her. “He _used_ us—you and me both! He’s _still_ using us! The only difference is that you’re more than happy to just sit there and take it while I’m smart enough to walk away!”

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

_She smiles against the warm, damp skin of Cosima’s inner thigh, her lover releasing a contented sigh. She gazes upward with eyes as wide as saucers, watching as the arch in Cosima’s back finally relents and the strain in her muscles ceases, her body slowly sinking into the mattress beneath her. She presses another kiss (or two) (or five) against the flesh she finds and she’s so enveloped in the heady scent Cosima’s arousal that she doesn’t register the words which quietly slip out from beyond her delicate lips._

 

_“Hm?”_

 

_She halts for a moment, gauging the brunette’s reaction. Cosima’s smile only grows wider as she slides her hand lower to tangle her fingers in wild blonde tresses._

 

_“Come up here,” she repeats herself._

 

_She’s tempted to oblige her love, her voice too sweet and full of promise. She’s tempted to press her own swollen lips against the heat of Cosima’s mouth and fall in. It would be so easy to answer her siren’s call, but instead she resists._

 

_“I’m not finished yet,” Delphine purrs._

 

_With heavy lashes, she lowers her head again and continues pressing kisses, this time migrating from Cosima’s inner thigh directly to her sex. She can feel the smaller girl squirm beneath her ministrations and Cosima’s easy laughter quickly transforms into an elongated groan._

 

_“Don’t make me beg.”_

 

_Now it’s Delphine’s turn to laugh, the shockwaves from her soft chuckling teasing at Cosima’s core._

 

_“I like it when you beg,” she says, her breath hot. “_ **_You_ ** _like it when you beg.”_

 

_Cosima is laughing again—groaning again—but her tugging at Delphine’s head remains persistent._

 

_“Don’t you want me to finish?” Delphine asks._

 

_“I want you_ **_here_ ** _.”_

 

_When her eyes find Cosima’s again, she’s completely ensnared by the tenderness she finds staring back at her. She glides up Cosima’s body without hesitating for another second, pressing her lips to Cosima’s which are eagerly waiting to receive her._

 

_“Je t’aime,” she whispers against them, the words sliding out of her mouth so naturally that she’s unaware they’ve even escaped until she feels Cosima pause beneath her._

_  
She drinks in Cosima’s expression—the glimmer in her eyes, the slight part of her lips (the lower one quivering ever-so-slightly), the flush in her cheeks that gives her a youthful glow—and finds herself caught off guard by how intensely the brunette is focused on her._

 

_She smiles._

 

_“What?” she asks with a slight laugh, brushing her knuckles over Cosima’s cheekbone._

 

_“Do you? Really?”_

 

_She lowers her head, pressing her forehead against Cosima’s._

 

_“Of course I do,” she says softly._

 

_Cosima smiles, her eyes drifting shut as she releases a gentle sigh and nuzzles Delphine._

 

_“Good. Cause I love you, too.”_

 

_Delphine can’t remember the last time she’s spoken those words or heard them deflected back at her. She had never ached for them before, but hearing them in Cosima’s voice has her reconsider everything she thought she wanted._

 

_Those words had not saved her mother._

 

_They had not mended her relationship with her father._

 

_She considered them worthless, but strangely enough, whenever she found herself alone with Cosima, they were the only words that came to mind._

 

_Not worthless, she realizes now—_

 

**_Priceless._ **

 

_Her father has his price. So does death, in its own strange way with its own strange currency._

 

_But this?_

 

_Being here with Cosima like this?_

 

_She could never put a price on it and Cosima has never once asked her to. She was the first—the only—to never ask her price or offer her own._

 

_“Maybe we should take that vacation.”_

 

_Cosima’s suggestion rouses her from her thoughts and she props herself up so she can stare down at her lover, head slightly cocked as she recalls the conversation they had weeks ago about running away together._

 

_“St. Barts?”_

 

_Cosima nods._

 

_“But… what about school?” Delphine asks._

 

_At first, she didn’t understand Cosima’s preoccupation with finishing her schooling; if they were going to run away together, what did it matter if she completed her degree or not? Then again, Delphine had ambitions of her own that Cosima could never quite understand either. Just as she had her own drive to succeed, Cosima was driven to achieve scholastically and so she learned to accept her girlfriend’s decision and had even come to admire it._

 

_“I can always come back to it later. Or I could study abroad,” Cosima shrugs._

 

_Delphine can’t bring herself to accept her usually stubborn girlfriend’s dismissiveness._

 

_“I don’t want to make you give it up,” she frowns._

 

_Cosima shakes her head, lifting her hand to gently tuck a lock of hair behind Delphine’s ear, making her face more visible. She smiles again, the pad of her thumb tracing the plump line of Delphine’s bottom lip._

 

_“You’re not making me do anything,” Cosima insists. “I love you. I want to run away with you.”_

 

_Delphine’s smile slowly creeps across her face and then takes her all at once. She surges forward, planting a hard kiss on Cosima’s lips._

 

_“Yes,” she breathes._

 

_Cosima giggles._

 

_“Are we really doing this?” she asks, a burst of excitement propelling her until she’s sitting up straight, level with Delphine._

 

_The blonde nods slowly, a barrage of thoughts slamming into her head she she holds Cosima’s gaze._

 

_“We will.”_

 

_She springs up from the bed, sashaying across the room to her closet and grabbing a thin silk robe. She throws it over her shoulders and ties it loosely at her waist._

 

_If this is really going to happen, there’s still so much she has to do._

 

_As it stands now, the two of them wouldn’t get very far on the money she’s managed to stow away—enough to float for a few months before they’d be forced to return, which is unacceptable. She could always ask her father for more; she’s certain he’d oblige her, that he’d transfer the funds into her account that very same day. She could take his money and all of their worries would disappear._

 

_“Wait… we_ **_will_ ** _?” Cosima pauses. “You were the one who brought it up in the first place. You were the one who wanted to drop everything and just go.”_

 

_Delphine can tell by the tone in her voice that she’s confused and displeased by her implication._

 

_She could take her father’s money and all of their worries would disappear… except his ghost would follow her around like a storm cloud, the threat of rain constant. How could she build a home with Cosima knowing that his money paid for it? How could they have a real future together knowing that it’s entirely dependent upon that man?_

 

_No._

 

_She had told Cosima before and she’s even more determined than ever. If this is really going to happen, she’s going to do it on her own terms. If this is really going to happen, she’s going to have to start making much bigger moves and quickly._

 

_She knows just the place to start._

 

_“I know,” Delphine acknowledges, backtracking towards Cosima. “But if we’re serious about this, then there are a few things I have to take care of first.”_

 

_“Like what?” Cosima counters with an arched brow._

 

_Like securing their future._

 

_Delphine leans forward, cupping Cosima’s face in her hands. Their foreheads meet again. Their breathing syncs._

 

_“Do you trust me?” Delphine asks her._

 

_Cosima’s response is instantaneous._

 

_“Of course.”_

 


	10. 10

“Jesus Christ.”

 

She stares up at the screen in pure horror, watching the scene unfold before her eyes. Even with the television muted, the flashing images of police cars and crime tape in conjunction with the headline cut through the normal noise and bustle of the bar, captivating her as well as most of the other patrons.

 

**Sixteen dead in violent shootout.**

 

She reaches for the remote stashed safely behind the bar, turning the volume up so she can hear the reporter speak; sixteen dead after a shootout at a local car dealership just hours before—suspected gang activity. She can feel the blood drain from her face despite the slamming in her chest. She can feel her hand holding the remote begin to tremble.

 

“I don’t wanna hear that shit! Turn it off!”

 

She’s snapped out of her trance by the booming voice of an older gentleman who angrily slams his pint glass on his table to emphasize his outrage. She obliges, pressing the mute button once again to silence the scene, though she still can’t tear her eyes away from the television.

 

“Hey.”

 

The voice is soft—just as soft as the hand that slides across the bar to cover her own. She pulls her eyes away long enough to give the blonde a meek smile.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” Shay tells her.

 

Her eyes are warm and reassuring, though Cosima finds herself unable to trust her lover’s words.

 

“Seriously?”

 

She makes no attempt to disguise her skepticism and mild annoyance, reclaiming her hand before hastily switching the channel.

 

Shay sighs.

 

“Alright,” she concedes. “This is going to get messy.”

 

“Don’t you mean _messier?”_

 

Sixteen people are already dead. She has no doubt Aldous Leekie and Dmitri Davydov are behind it. Knowing those two men, there will be many more bodies to follow before things finally get resolved… if they ever do.

 

Delphine’s voice rings in her head.

 

_“Things are going to get bloody very soon and if you keep hanging around this girl, you’re going to get caught in the middle.”_

 

She had been too angry to take Delphine’s warning at face value, dismissing it as jealousy. 

 

But now? 

 

_“You should start over—you deserve to start over—but you’ll never be able to do that with her and you know it.”_

 

“I met with Delphine the other day,” she blurts out.

 

She isn’t sure what compels her to tell Shay this, but she’s unable to keep it to herself any longer. Maybe it’s the realization that Delphine hadn’t been out for blood that night—that she had actually been genuine—that she really didn’t know about Leekie after all. If she’s able to accept Delphine’s warning about Dmitri and accept her lack of involvement in Leekie’s plot as the truth, then why is she still unable to accept Delphine’s feelings? What reason does she have to doubt or dismiss them if everything else is true? Why would she lie about _that?_

 

“What? Why?”

 

Shay is just as surprised by her revelation as she is.

 

“She came to see me after I closed the bar,” Cosima mutters. “She won’t leave me alone.”

 

Even when Delphine isn’t physically there, she’s still present—looming over every conversation, hanging onto every single one of her thoughts—completely inescapable, for better or worse. 

 

“If she’s really that big of a problem, you can always—”

 

“She came to warn me about you—about your family,” Cosima tries to explain, her tone serious. “She says I should stay out of it because it’s going to turn into a bloodbath.”

 

Shay is silent for a moment. She reaches for her tea, taking a sip before speaking again.

 

“Maybe she’s right.”

 

“Uh… excuse me?”

 

Cosima pauses, stunned by her girlfriend’s reaction. She hadn’t expected Shay to give in quite so easily and she isn’t sure if she should be upset or curious.

 

“What?” Shay shrugs.

 

“You’re actually _agreeing_ with her?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I? Just because she’s your ex?” 

 

She considers the question carefully. Is the truth still the truth when you hear it from a liar’s lips? Can it somehow be tainted? As a scientist, she’s always believed the truth to be universal, so why should it matter if it’s coming from Delphine’s mouth or Shay’s? Does the motive behind the words really change what they mean?

 

“You _should_ stay out of this, Cosima,” Shay continues. “I know my uncle promised you things, but I know how he does business and you’re just not cut out for this line of work.”

 

Cosima nods silently.

 

“Yeah.”

 

She moves through the rest of her shift in a haze, making drinks and sleepwalking through whatever trivial conversation patrons try to make with her. Her thoughts are distant, shuffling through many possible scenarios of how this will play out; she can do nothing and allow things to unfold as they are, heed Delphine’s advice and abandon her current girlfriend in a bid to distance herself from all of the drama, or stick to the original plan she made with Delphine years ago—that she made with Sarah upon being released from prison: take off into the night and never look back. She pays little attention to the petite blonde still perched at the bar, but despite this, Shay still hangs around until Cosima is ready to close up for the night, kicking the last few people out and locking the door.

 

“You okay?” Shay gently pries. “You’ve been pretty quiet all night.”

 

“Just thinking.”

 

“About…?”

 

When she looks over to Shay again, still sitting at the bar with wide and expectant eyes, the anxiety in her chest bubbles to the surface.

 

“You wanna go somewhere with me?”

 

For the second time this evening, impulse has gotten the better of her.

 

Shay arches a brow.

 

“Where?”

 

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter,” Cosima spills.“We can just go and never come back.”

 

It doesn’t take Shay’s bemused expression to tell her she’s acting completely out of character. She can’t be sure if the words are her own, if they’re coming from a place inside of her that’s genuine, or if they’re coming from a place of fear, her invitation stemming from obligation rather than sincerity; in the moment, all she can think about is running as far away as possible and naively hoping her shadow won’t follow. 

 

“You really want to just up and leave with no sort of plan at all? That doesn’t sound like you,” Shay presses.

 

Her words aren’t meant to be accusatory, but despite her soft tone, Cosima can’t help but feel her girlfriend is purposely looking for some sort of excuse not to go along with her half-baked idea.

 

“Why do we need a plan? We’ll be together. We’ll figure something out,” she tries.

 

She’s tired of planning. It’s never worked out for her before. Delphine had had a plan and it had gotten them absolutely nowhere; with all that time spent plotting out their future and how they were going to get there, they could have up and left and simply taken it for themselves. They could have made it work.

 

But Delphine was never interested in just “making it work.”

 

She wanted the whole damn thing.

 

She didn’t want _a_ future—she wanted _the_ future; the one where they got the entire cake and not just a slice… and in that time spent planning on how to get it, there it sat on the table spoiling right in front of them before they had a chance to even taste it.

 

“Running from your problems isn’t the answer, Cosima.”

 

She expels an irritated sigh, angrily throwing the rag she’d been using to wipe down the bar to the ground.

 

“What’s wrong?” Shay asks.

 

Cosima stops what she’s doing, trying to calm herself. She knows Shay means well, but she needs more than her girlfriend’s good intentions right now; she doesn’t need to be soothed or psychoanalyzed, she doesn’t need more empty promises—she needs _action._

 

“You’re supposed to say _yes_!” she bursts. “You’re supposed to say we’ll make it work!”

 

“Is that what I’m _supposed_ to say, or what you _want_ me to say?”

 

Cosima’s hands—usually so loose and lively—ball into quivering fists when she realizes her reach has exceeded her grasp. She isn’t sure where this desperation has come from—this childish, debilitating need to hold onto anything that seems familiar—anything close enough to keep her from slipping—from being alone. She huffs past Shay in a hurry, muttering beneath her breath as she makes her way into the safety of the backroom.

 

“I have to close up.”

 

 

\+ + + + + 

 

 

_The loud, incessant knocking at her door somehow manages to bleed through the wall of noise currently assaulting ears. She pulls her earbuds out just to be certain of it and as soon as she has her confirmation, she places her pen down in her textbook and closes the cover. She hadn’t been expecting any visitors tonight, which can only mean one thing._

 

_“You’re in a good mood,” she remarks as soon as she opens the door to see her girlfriend radiating with excitement._

 

_“Well, I have a very good reason to be,” Delphine answers, quickly crossing the threshold and stepping into Cosima’s modest domain._

 

_“Yeah? And what’s that?”_

 

_There’s a brief pause in their banter as Cosima closes the door behind them, her eyes carefully inspecting the beaming blonde. Delphine isn’t normally this…_ **_giddy._ ** _It isn’t that she dislikes seeing her girlfriend so eager, rather she’s skeptical of it—skeptical of anyone or anything that could generate such a response in the usually calm and level-headed girl._

 

_“I’ve been in touch with someone,” Delphine reveals._

 

_Right away, Cosima can tell she’s withholding._

 

_“What kind of someone?” she cautiously asks._

 

_“Someone who can really help us.”_

 

_She furrows her brow, trying to rack her brain for the possible problem Delphine claims to have the solution to._

 

_“What do we need help with? Are we talking couple’s counselling or something, cause honestly—”_

 

_Her word vomit ceases the second she feels Delphine press her lips against hers; it’s a gesture that’s meant to silence, but there’s also a tenderness in it that reassures her Delphine isn’t trying to distract or deflect. Her eyes flutter closed and she sighs into the kiss, delighting in the gentle brush of knuckles against her cheeks._

 

_“You’re rambling,” Delphine whispers, lightly nuzzling her face._

 

_“Sorry.”_

 

_Delphine reaches for her hand, taking it in her own and giving it a reassuring squeeze._

 

_“He’s going to help us take our careers to the next level.”_

 

_Cosima finds herself caught off guard._

 

_“Careers? What careers?”_

 

_The last she checked, she was still just a Biology student while Delphine was now living off whatever money she had managed to steal or swindle from the unsuspecting. She can tell by Delphine’s stern glance that the blonde must be referring to her thieving ways._

 

_“Oh. That.”_

 

_Delphine’s lips downturn into a frown, her enthusiasm completely stifled by Cosima’s tepid reaction. As soon as Cosima realizes her folly, she sighs heavily._

 

_“Look, if you wanna be a career criminal, that’s great for you. I’m just not really cut out for the whole “life of crime” thing,” she confesses. “And I thought the plan was to drop all our shit and dip to St. Barts?”_

 

_Delphine had told her before that there were arrangements that had to be made before their grand adventure, but from the way her girlfriend is speaking now—her voice so full of zest and ambition in regards to this new “opportunity”—she’s getting the very opposite impression._

 

_“I thought we were in this together?”_

 

_The crack in her voice is subtle, but Cosima instantly catches it and her heart throbs in her chest. She directs Delphine’s hand towards her mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm._

 

_“Of course we are,” she reiterates. “I’ll follow you wherever you go—you know that.”_

 

_Delphine’s lips twitch to form another smile and Cosima tries to match it, though her own smile is much meeker than the blonde’s._

 

_“I’m just saying this isn’t exactly my forte here. I’m just a science geek, in case you haven’t figured that out yet.”_

 

_Delphine chuckles at her self-deprecation and Cosima’s lopsided grin finally finds its usual zeal._

 

_“But if you really think this is what we need… then okay.”_

 

_She’s not entirely sure that she really understands just what’s happening, but she feels at ease with one look into her lover’s eyes; even if she doesn’t know what’s going on, she’s bolstered by the unwavering devotion staring back at her and somehow, she knows this must be the right call._

 

_“Really?” Delphine counters, her voice hopeful._

 

_“Yeah. I trust you,” Cosima nods slowly. “If you say this is the best way, then—”_

 

_“_ **_Tres bien_ ** _! He’s waiting for us.”_

 

_The tone immediately shifts while Cosima struggles to keep her bearings._

 

_“Wait, what?”_

 

_“He wants to take us to dinner. He’s downstairs waiting.”_

 

_Cosima finally processes the blonde’s words, realizing the man she’s been talking about is here at this very moment. She tries her best to hide it, but she can’t help but feel a little imposed upon—violated that Delphine would think to bring him to her home. Her palms grow clammy as she mulls over the idea of having dinner with this mysterious man who seems to have completely captivated her girlfriend._

 

_“Dinner? I-I don’t know—I have a lot of readings to get through…”_

 

_“You can finish them later,” Delphine tells her, grabbing Cosima by the arm and leading her towards the door. “Working with Aldous Leekie could be the opportunity of a lifetime.”_

 

_Cosima sighs, ultimately relenting as she grabs her keys and jacket. She locks the door behind them and allows Delphine to assist in slipping her jacket on. Once she’s ready to go, she takes a deep breath and allows herself to be led down the hall, into the elevator and back out through the main lobby. As soon as they exit her residence hall, she immediately spots the impressive limousine that’s pulled up and waiting for them._

 

_“You won’t be disappointed,” Delphine whispers into her ear as they approach the vehicle._

 

_“Yeah, I can tell…”_

 

_The second Delphine reaches for the door and opens it for her girlfriend to enter, Cosima can’t help but notice that the interior of the limo seems much colder than the outside air as it nips at her cheeks, painting them flushed. She slides all the way over along the leather seat to make room form Delphine to slide in next to her._

 

_Delphine closes the door, entrapping them both._

 

_“You must be Cosima.”_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Well, it's certainly been a while. I have every intention of finishing this fic, things have just been a little hectic for me for the last year. In the time since OB has ended, I've started a new job, moved, and went through a complicated breakup, which has left very little time or motivation to write. Things finally seem to be somewhat normal now, so I'm hoping to update more frequently. For those of you who've continued to follow and comment, I see you and I very much appreciate it. Much love.

“Has everyone gone crazy?”

 

“Just think about it, Cos—”

 

“I _have_ thought about it. A lot more than you have, clearly.”

 

She can hardly believe Sarah is even suggesting the idea, but then again, should she really be that surprised? The Brit has certainly had more ludicrous plans in the past, yet she still can’t help but feel dumbfounded every time she hears another half-cocked scheme slip out from behind Sarah’s lips.

 

“We need to cut the shit and keep our heads down,” she says over the bar, her voice a harsh whisper. “The whole city’s on edge right now. Shit’s about to kick up between Leekie and the Bratva and we really don’t wanna get caught in the middle of it.”

 

The punk had come waltzing into Bobby’s with her vigour renewed, ordering a pint and perching at the bar as she laid out her plan for Cosima to consider—another go at the heist that had gone so terribly wrong the first time—the job that had thrust Delphine back into her life.

 

“But you see, that’s why it’s perfect!” Sarah argues with a crooked smile and a glint in her eyes. She takes a swig of her beer, then wipes her damp lips on the back of her hand before continuing with her plot. “While they’re all busy killing each other, we can just slide on in and take what we need. Easy pickings.”

 

Cosima sighs, shaking her head incredulously. 

 

“Nothing about this is _easy,_ Sarah,” she remarks.

 

Sure, Leekie and the Bratva may be up to their necks in each other and too distracted to make another heist attempt themselves, but just because the competition has dropped out doesn’t mean it’s a clear shot to the finish line. If anything, security at DYAD is probably beefier than ever after their failed attempt. Even if they could put together a concrete plan of action and succeed, she’s not sure taking on such a job while war is breaking out across the city will put them in an advantageous position.

 

Sarah’s expression shifts, becoming much more serious.

 

“Do you really wanna hang around here any longer? After all the shite that’s gone down?” she probes. 

 

Cosima halts, unable to sort through her thoughts and find her words. The one thing she wants more than anything is to get the hell away from this place; she’d wanted it for so long, even before her stint in prison. She’d been dreaming of running away since she first fell in deep with Delphine. 

 

Only Delphine _wouldn’t_.

 

Shay _won’t_. 

 

But here’s Sarah, ready and willing to pack up and go at the drop of a hat. The terms may not be the greatest, but maybe Sarah and Felix really are her best chance of getting out of this place and starting over. 

 

“Of course I don’t,” Cosima admits with a sigh, bracing herself with both hands on the bar in front of her. “I want outta here even more than you do. I just wanna make sure we do it the right way, at the right time.”

 

“There’s no right way to ditch, Cos. There’s no right time. You just gotta… _go_.”

 

A small, crooked smile finds its way onto the dreadlocked woman’s face. When it comes to life on the run, there’s no opinion she trusts more than Sarah’s. Sometimes she even thinks they’re cut from the same cloth—both born with the same restlessness in their bones. As if sensing her friend’s thought, Sarah reaches over the bar, placing a comforting hand atop Cosima’s.

 

“Fine. But _I_ make the plan— _I_ call the shots,” Cosima says, laying down her terms.

 

Sarah shrugs.

 

“Works for me.”

 

As stubborn as Sarah can be at times, it’s almost a relief dealing with her after dealing with Delphine for so long. 

 

“I’ll give Marion a call tomorrow,” Sarah begins. “She’ll know the best way to—“

 

“Hello again, friend.”

 

The familiar, accented voice pierces the ambiance of the bar, interrupting their conversation. Before Cosima even turns to acknowledge the source, she feels a chill roll down her spine and her heart stop momentarily.

 

“Piss off,” Sarah spits, her annoyance written plainly on her face. “We’re talking.”

 

And just like that, Cosima’s heart is sputtering in her chest. She whips around to gauge Dmitri’s reaction to the insult; instead of the expected rage, she finds the older man’s lips drawn into a thin line, his expression otherwise unreadable.

 

“I apologize,” he says with a subtle bow of his head. “Though I really do need to speak with this lovely young lady.” 

 

Sarah doesn’t budge.

 

“Sh-She’s sorry,” Cosima interjects. She tries her best to defuse the situation before a mushroom cloud lights up over Bobby’s. “She doesn’t mean to be such a bitch. Sarah’s just really protective, right?” 

 

“Come again?” Sarah snaps.

 

Cosima laughs nervously, trying to dismiss Sarah’s quickly-escalating anger. She gives Sarah’s arm a gentle squeeze.

 

“Dmitri’s been waiting on an answer,” Cosima says, giving Sarah a knowing look.

 

Sarah’s surprise overtakes her anger as soon as she realizes who their visitor is.

 

“Dmitri? _Dmitri Davydov_?”

 

Dmitri’s chuckle is gruff and full-bellied, though Cosima knows better than to trust it. She’s acutely aware of Sarah’s scrutinizing gaze, but she ignores it for now in order to focus on the task at hand.

 

“Come now. Is this anyway to greet a friend?” he asks.

 

Before she has time to respond, the much taller man is wrapping his arms around her tiny frame in a tight hug.

 

“I-I’m sorry. I just… I wasn’t expecting you,” Cosima says, squirming uncomfortably in the man’s arms for a second time until he releases her.

 

“This is the bar where you work, no?”

 

“Yeah, but—”

 

She stops herself, remembering that Sarah is here as well. 

 

“Just give us a minute,” she says lowly. “I’ve got this.”

 

“And you think _I’m_ the crazy one?” 

 

With a gesture of her head, she leads Dmitri away from her friend and to an empty table where they can talk with a little more privacy. The Russian quickly grabs one of the chairs, pulling it out in a act of courtesy. She drops down with a huff, waiting for him to take the seat across from her before she continues with their conversation.

 

“Look, I’m… I’m gonna have to decline,” she finally speaks, palms sweaty as she braces herself for the worst. “I appreciate the opportunity and everything, but I really don’t wanna get involved in any of this shit again. I never really wanted to in the first place. I’m just a girl who fell in way over her head.”

 

Dmitri is silent, hands folded on the table in front of him while he considers his words.

 

“I understand.”

 

Cosima blinks.

 

“Uh… you do?”

 

“Of course,” he nods. “But you see… there is a lot at stake here.”

 

“Yeah, I know that. That’s exactly _why_ I can’t help you.”

 

Dmitri cocks his head, waiting for her to elaborate. 

 

“If you and Leekie wanna tear each other to shreds, I wish you the best of luck,” she tells him. “This is too high stakes for me and the payoff isn’t worth it.”

 

Just as she begins to rise, Dmitri lashes out like a serpent, his grip on her wrist much tighter than necessary while he holds her in place. Panic shoots through her and out of the corner of her eye she notices Sarah jump from her bar stool.

 

Dmitri is still.

 

He doesn’t advance or retreat, though he commands her attention with a steely gaze that entraps her.

 

“We’ll revisit this conversation,” he says, voice sharp and accent even heavier than usual.

 

With that, he releases her wrist and quickly sees himself out, reuniting with two of his goons who are waiting by the door. Sarah rushes over to her side, placing a reassuring hand upon her shoulder.

 

“What the hell was all that about?”

 

Cosima expels a forgotten breath, her lungs deflating along with her spirit.

 

“I just turned Dmitri Davydov away.”

 

She speaks the words, hoping that by breathing life into them, they’ll make her situation feel a little more palpable. Even after they’ve left her lips, her body still trembles in disbelief—as if she simply can’t accept the consequences she knows are about to unfold.

 

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

_“Noooo,” Cosima whines, her toothy grin betraying her words of protest as she reaches out towards the fleeting warmth of her lover. “Don’t leave me.”_

 

_Delphine slips out of the comfort of the large bed—the comfort of her girlfriend’s arms—and drags herselfacross the hotel room over to the creme-coloured antique armchair in the corner where her purse vibrates incessantly._

 

_“Just a moment,_ **_mon coeur_ ** _,” the blonde rasps._

 

_She fishes through her bag, finally locating her cell phone. When she sees Aldous Leekie’s name screaming back at her, she knows she needs to take this call._

 

_“_ **_Allo?_ ** _” she answers._

 

_“You need to move.”_

 

_Panic overtakes her, a million different horrible scenarios playing out in her mind. Cosima sits up in bed, immediately detecting the shift in Delphine’s mood._

 

_“You may have been compromised,” Aldous elaborates._

 

_Delphine frowns, cradling the mobile phone between her ear and left shoulder as she grabs the complimentary robe thrown over the back of the armchair and hastily pulls it on, loosely tying it at the waist. She ignores Cosima’s slew of questions and heads for the balcony, pulling the sliding door open and stepping outside for some privacy._

 

_“Compromised? How?” she throws back. “There’s no way they could have traced it back to us and I made sure we weren’t followed!”_

 

_The job had gone off without a hitch, but she had been even more careful than usual on account of Cosima accompanying her this time; she couldn’t take the risk of this blowing back onto her girlfriend and she’s filled with equal parts rage and fear as she tries to process her mentor’s words.  
_

_“We can’t be sure, but I’d like to err on the side of caution,” Aldous says smoothly._

 

_She stops, clamping her eyes shut and taking a steadying breath. She hears the balcony door slide open behind her and she finds her footing again, allowing the myriad of emotions which had suddenly seized her to melt away as quickly as they came pouring in._

 

_“Yes. You’re right,” she replies with a curt nod. “We’re leaving now.”_

 

_She ends the call, sliding the phone into the pocket of her robe._

 

_“What’s going on?”_

 

_She turns around to find Cosima in the doorway, comforter wrapped around her nude form to shield her from the elements as well as any unwelcome eyes. The blonde takes another breath, centering herself._

 

_“We need to move.”_

 

_“Wait—what?”_

 

_She darts inside, grabbing Cosima by the hand and pulling her back into the hotel room with her._

 

_“It’s not safe here anymore,” she comments, rushing over to gather her discarded clothes off the floor._

 

_“What are you talking about?”_

 

_“Pack your things—let’s get moving.”_

 

_She doesn’t mean to be cold or clinical, but there’s no time for questions or panic right now. She re-dresses rather quickly and expects Cosima to do the same, only the brunette stands in the middle of the room and watches her girlfriend flit about like a bumble bee._

 

_“What did you do?” Cosima finally asks with a weighted frown._

 

_“Nothing,” Delphine dismisses her “That was Aldous—he thinks someone might be coming for us.”_

 

_“What? How?”_

 

_Delphine stops, a frustrated sigh slipping past her lips. She marches over to where Cosima is standing, taking her face in her hands and locking their eyes in an intense gaze._

 

_“I don’t know, but there’s no time for questions! We need to get moving.”_

 

_She doesn’t mean to startle the petite girl, but she needs Cosima to understand the gravity of the situation. As soon as she does, Cosima instantly becomes more compliant._

 

_“O-Okay.”_

 

_They dress quickly, stuffing all of their belongings into their suitcases with great haste. Once their bags are packed, they make their swift exit from the hotel; the halls are quiet and empty in these early hours of the night and so they’re able to slip away unnoticed, tossing their luggage into the back of Delphine’s car and driving off._

 

_The drive is silent._

 

_Delphine’s eyes remain fixed on the road ahead of them, both hands steady on the wheel. Cosima rests her head against the passenger window, her eyes capturing quick glimpses of trees and stars and power lines, trying to hold onto them before they quickly slip away from her again, out of sight but still somewhere in the back of her mind like a phantom itch—an afterimage hiding safely in her shadow._

 

_After an hour, she’s the first to break their silence._

 

_“We can’t keep doing this.”_

 

_Delphine’s gaze deviates for a split second, stealing a glimpse of her lover’s profile which she’s come to know so well._

 

_“It won’t happen again. I promise.”_

 

_Cosima shakes her head, rephrasing._

 

_“No, Delphine—_ **_I_ ** _can’t keep doing this.”_

 

_Delphine inhales a shaky breath, blinking rapidly to keep her vision clear._

 

_“What are you saying?” she dares to ask._

 

_“I’m saying this isn’t fun anymore!”_

 

_Cosima’s outburst rings out like a gunshot, sucking all the oxygen from the air. Despite this, Delphine feels a burn begin to spread through her body, crawling up to claw at her face until she’s flush with the sting of her girlfriend’s words. Tears begin to well in Cosima’s eyes, her chest begins to heave._

 

_“You said we were going to leave after we made some more money, right? Well, with the last three jobs alone, we have more than enough to float!”_

 

_“This isn’t about floating, Cosima—this is about swimming!”_

 

_“No, this is about_ **_you_ ** _!”_

 

_Delphine’s foot eases on the breaks. She peeks in the rearview mirror for the potential of any approaching cars and with the coast clear, she veers off onto the shoulder, bringing the car to a complete stop and turning off the ignition. Even once they’re still, Delphine’s hands stay planted on the steering wheel and she finds herself unable to face Cosima, her misty gaze locked squarely into the dead of night which lurks just beyond the windshield of her Benz._

 

_When had this happened? When had things become so tense between them? Even mere hours ago when they were making love in a rented bed, she could sense a tension in Cosima’s body that had nothing to do with orgasm. She had pushed it to the back of her mind, chalking it up to nerves—after all, this was the first time Cosima had actually accompanied her in-person on one of their jobs. But if she had to be honest, even before this evening, something had changed between them—the look in Cosima’s eyes had changed. While love was still plainly evident every time they exchanged a glance, there was now a hesitancy to it; instead of jumping headfirst into the deep end, she was treading carefully in shallow waters as if some unknown monster was lurking in the depths beneath them._

 

_“Why isn’t it ever enough for you?” she sniffles, defeat settling in like a long lost relative. “Why am_ **_I_ ** _never enough for you?”_

 

_Delphine’s breath catches in her chest until she’s nearly choking on it._

 

_“Hey! Hey—look at me.”_

 

_She’s propelled forward by some force between them, her hands finding Cosima’s face and cupping it gently, bringing their foreheads together. They share a breath, then another._

 

_“You_ **_are_ ** _enough, okay? Do you understand?” Delphine speaks._

 

_Cosima shakes her head, the quiver of her lip unmistakeable even in the dark._

 

_“How can you say that?” she protests, voice trembling._  
  
“Because it’s true,” Delphine reassures her.

 

_With a swipe of her thumbs, she brushes away the tears that mar her lover’s otherwise flawless face, though the very gesture only summons more._

 

_“You are enough. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”_

 

_The tears are still persistent and so Delphine does the only thing she can think to do; as if caught up in a great gust, her lips sweep over Cosima’s until her quiet sniffles and gentle sobs are silenced. There’s a part of the brunette that wants to pull away, that wants to doubt the gesture, but like always, she finds herself unable to._

 

_“We’re so close,” Delphine whispers against Cosima’s lips, nuzzling her softly. “We’re almost there—I can taste it.”_

 

_“So let’s go!” Cosima challenges._

 

_Delphine pauses, seriously considering the suggestion for a moment._

 

_“Our bags are already packed, let’s just keep going! If we keep driving, we can make it to the airport in a couple of hours!”_

 

_What if they did?_

 

_What if—with nothing but the clothes on their backs and what little they have stuffed in their suitcases—they drive through the night, board a plane and never look back? That would make them both happy, wouldn’t it? But then what would happen when they ran out of money? They’d probably be forced to find their way back, so Cosima could finish her education and find a stable job. She’d have to find an honest job, as well. They’d be right back where they started, stuck in the grind she’s always dreaded._

 

_Not to mention Aldous._

 

_If they just up and left without a single word, that would rouse suspicion. While some would say Aldous was far too paranoid for his own good, his paranoia had always served him well and allowed him to stay one step ahead of his enemies. By assuming and preparing for the worst, he was never caught off guard._

 

_“If we run now, Aldous will think we’re plotting something,” Delphine counters. “We don’t want him as an enemy.”_

 

_Cosima sighs angrily._

 

_“Okay, so, can’t you just, like, explain everything to him? He’s got an old man boner for you anyway—I’m sure he’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”_

 

_Delphine considers her girlfriend’s proposition. It’s sooner than she’d planned, but she has a sinking feeling in her chest that if she doesn’t comply, she may lose Cosima forever; the brunette’s patience has worn far too thin to continue on as they are. She chews anxiously on her lower lip while trying to reach a satisfying conclusion and as if on queue, her phone begins to ring._

 

_“It’s Aldous,” she announces._

 

_“Of course it is,” Cosima mutters._

_  
She crosses her arms over her chest and turns away from Delphine, resting her head against the window again, refusing to make eye contact. Delphine feels a ball begin to form in her throat but she somehow finds the strength to swallow it down and answer._

 

_“We’re on our way back now,” she says in greeting._

 

_“That’s good to hear,” Aldous retorts. “I want you to check in every hour so I know you haven’t been compromised.”_

 

_“_ **_D’accord,_ ** _” Delphine agrees._

 

_She watches as Cosima shifts uncomfortably in her seat, face still concealed. Delphine inhales a sudden breath, finding a burst of courage to propel her forward and force the words out of her mouth._

 

_“Aldous, I—”_

 

_The call is terminated before she has a chance to speak life into her troubles. She expels the breath trapped in her chest in the form of a sigh, her eyes sliding shut as he tries her hardest to find some leverage, caught between the uncomfortable press of the two great apposing forces in her life._

 

_“I’ll talk to Aldous as soon as we get back.”_

 

_Her voice is raspy, throat dry. She licks her lips to compensate, though the words still taste of sand even when she manages to seize Cosima’s attention again._

 

_“I’ll… I’ll tell him that we’re out.”_

 

_Delphine’s announcement seems to lift the staleness in the air somewhat, making it just a bit easier for the both of them to breathe. When Cosima’s eyes meet her’s again, they take a moment to search each other._

 

_“Really?” Cosima presses, wading gently into the murky waters before her._

 

_Delphine offers her a half-cracked smile as compensation._

 

_“I promise.”_


End file.
